


Christmas Collection

by Lunaraen



Category: MCSM, Minecraft Story Mode
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Family Shenanigans, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Holidays, Multi, One Shot Collection, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 30,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13168857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunaraen/pseuds/Lunaraen
Summary: A collection of 25 one-shots done for the StoryModeChristmas challenge on tumblr.





	1. Ugly Sweaters (Jesse/Lukas)

There's an odd sort of tradition involving ugly holiday sweaters that Lukas has never really understood.

(Not to say that he doesn't enjoy holiday sweaters or even sweaters in general, because of course he does, but there's some odd emphasis on them being so ugly they're enjoyable that hasn't ever really clicked with him.)

And that's not to say that he doesn't understand the appeal behind home knitted sweaters either, because he definitely does.

It's been a while, but a few years ago, Aiden had made all the Ocelots matching sweaters. The design had been simple but nice, an ocelot face on a thick, woolly red background. They were hardly the first, of fiftieth, or hundredth thing Aiden had knitted, but Aiden also tended to be the kind of person to rush things, patience having never been easy or fun for him, and sweaters took forever, so if they had been too loose or sloppy, well, that just made sense.

Still, Lukas is pretty sure the sweaters were the nicest looking things he ever made, fitting nearly perfectly without anything looking out of place.

(The aching fingers, however, very much seemed to be the price, which Aiden was sure to grumble and whine about to let them know exactly how much of a pain said sweaters were while he grinned at each and every compliment.)

It's probably extremely fitting that the way Jesse, with more ideas and enthusiasm than any one person maybe should have, finds out about how long it's been since he had a homemade sweater, never mind an ugly one, is while cuddling with him while they both share a sweater.

(It's not a very big sweater, meant for one person, which makes for close cuddling, but that's kind of the point and neither of them mind. Well, not until Jesse shimmies her way out of the sweater and practically drags him off the sofa and down the hall like some sort of maniac, but that's just part of Jesse's charm.)

Jesse, of course, as Lukas has learned, wanted for very little back when she lived in the forest with Olivia and Axel.

The need for good looking but itchy sweaters didn't exist while herds of sheep roamed nearby and Axel managed to make increasingly creative but always functional and cozy sweaters every year.

And despite having an entire city of people more than ready to donate the best of materials and items to the Order without expecting so much as a thank you, apparently the tradition of Axel hand making holiday sweaters with the wool they already have isn't dying this year and apparently it is now vital that Lukas becomes a part of it.

Lukas pieces this together through a whirlwind of measurements that Axel and Jesse have their fun with, a whirlwind that abruptly ends as he's dragged right back out of Axel's room while Jesse manages to somehow keep up a conversation about possible patterns and material with Axel.

If nothing else, he can safely say he's as in the dark about his own sweater as he can be, and he's not quite sure how that's entirely possible but it is.

Sometimes it really is just the little things that remind Lukas of why he loves Jesse so much. Beyond that she's just insanely lovable in general, of course, which is something that's impossible to forget when they end up cuddling back on the couch like nothing ever happened.

Lukas greatly underestimates Jesse sometimes, however, and goes to bed not an hour later under the impression that it's wonderful to be accepted and that he really should do something especially nice for Axel and Jesse in return and that that's the end of it.

And well...

He really _should_ do something nice for them, and he will, because being accepted is a wonderful thing, but that is very much not the end of it.

In fairness, there's roughly a week of meetings, writing, general repairs, extra work, and whatever cozy cuddling and relaxing moments they all can squeeze in, to lull him into a false sense of security.

Because in one week, he's back in his bed safely resting under the assumption he will not be ambushed at some odd hour of the night.

He is wrong, and he's made blindingly aware of this as he wakes up to Jesse grinning and hovering over him.

And he does mean _hovering_ , because he thinks what woke him up first was her landing on the bed, presumably from leaping off the floor, if he didn't wake up first from her lighting the candle, given that he's now realizing the steady little flame on his table wasn't still going when he fell asleep after he put it out an hour or two ago. (Or three. It really is early.)

Jesse being on his bed is not a bad thing.

Jesse being as happy as she is definitely isn’t a bad thing.

But as happy as he immediately is for her, he doesn't understand what she's doing here so late and might be even more confused by the bundle tightly clutched in her hands that he's only just now noticing.

It's not a bad thing to wonder about, given that he was deep asleep a moment ago and might still not be all awake yet.

Lukas doesn't have to wonder what it is for long, though, as Jesse backs off just enough for him to sit up before she thrusts it in his hands, and Lukas, still blearily blinking and really present in very little but the physical sense, holds it up to find...

A sweater.

A sweater that is decidedly not Axel's make either, because while Lukas is sure he could make something like this, he's also seen enough of the various things Axel has made, especially fuzzy holiday items thanks to the latest barrage of scarves and mittens.

And this is not what Axel would make.

It feels comfortable already, soft to the touch, and looks good, but the knitting is maybe just a bit too loose in the shoulders and with too obvious a patch of mismatches stitching along one of the sides.

It's endearing and he loves it, the minimalistic book and quill contrasted against the rest of the sweater’s light blue, but it's not exactly Axel's style.

So then it comes down to who would make Lukas a sweater, knowing his measurements, and who would be willing to put so much effort into something in so little time.

And he blinks up at Jesse, whose grin has taken on an almost anxious aspect now, and he knows full well she doesn't have the time for this.

They've been busy all week surviving and working and trying to rest.

There's no way she made him this.

But he's not exactly seeing any other alternatives and he's tired, so he tries not to yawn as he sets the sweater down.

"But... a sweater's supposed to take forever." It's not his smartest comment, obvious as it is, but there's something in his mind that's obviously not awake or aware enough to make the connection between the sweater talk they had not a week earlier and this somehow already cozy and practically spontaneous sweater in his lap.

"Right!" Jesse clasps her hands together, letting them rest in her lap as the grin turns entirely guilty. "Maybe I've had a little free time after dinner this past week, and maybe I wanted something to do. You know, just to pass the time."

She has _not_ had near enough 'free time' to do a fraction of this.

Which means somebody has been cutting it out of the only time she could without the others maybe realizing it instantly, with how tired they've all been.

Lukas doesn't even want to think about how sleep deprived she must be.

(Not that he has to; the dark bags under her eyes are even more telling now than they were hours ago when he thought she was just reasonably overworked like the rest of them.)

He could kill her. Or kiss her. Or both.

"You're crazy." That shouldn't make Jesse nearly beam, but it does and he loves her so much. Even as she picks the sweater back up only to thrust it at him again.

"Come on, try it on!"

So he does, because this is insane and he loves her and well, what else do you do with a sweater anyhow?

It's not a perfect fit, the large book that takes up the center of the front stretching comfortably to his waist, the actual hem low enough to reach his mid-thigh, likely due in part to how baggy it feels, the sleeves nearly reaching past his fingertips, wool brushing against his fingers as he shifts.

Lukas can’t remember the last time he was so happy to get a gift, and he doesn't bother to hide his own grin as he looks up at Jesse.

Even if her gaze seems much more critical as she picks at both him and the sweater, plucking at one of the sleeves.

"Maybe a little too big." She lets go, the sleeve slipping back down past his hand. "And long."

And he can tell she's serious and, as far as mismatches go, this doesn't seem like a bad one to him at all. Not to mention that now is really not the time to get critical.

"Jesse, shut up. It's a miracle you haven't killed yourself trying to make this." And he's angry, just a little bit, that she's done so much and can't even let herself be a little happy about it, but she's amazing and Lukas can't manage to muster anything more than a warm look matched by a warm grin even as he says it.

It's easier to wrap his arms around Jesse and pull her into a hug before she tries to tear herself down anymore.

(Not that she's off the hook, because it's becoming more and more apparent that he's in love with somebody who doesn't know how and when to take a break.)

"Seriously, Jesse. Thank you." He's not sure who starts the kiss, sweet and short, but it's nice, especially when he realizes he can start making it up to Jesse through kisses.

The chuckling turning into giggling as he starts kissing her neck reinforces that it's absolutely a good idea.

"You're welcome."

And yeah, it's long, and yeah it's big— he's been eating more cookies this season than normal, but not _that_ many.

But he's not complaining, especially not when it makes the inevitable following stress test with both of them in the sweater all the cozier. It's a little roomier than the normal sweater, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

"Feels like a perfect fit to me." His own chuckle nearly cuts him off as he smiles up at Jesse. "At least for two people."

Jesse huffs as she slumps, her chin resting on his chest.

"Shut up and enjoy your sweater."

"I am." He presses a kiss to her forehead, shifting to bend his elbow so he can prop his head up. Even he knows his tone is as fond as his gaze, if maybe equally exasperated. "I'm not going to ever be able to pay you back if you keep doing all these awesome things for me, Jesse."

"Being my pillow sounds good right now." And before he can say anything about it, not that he'd ever say no and she knows it, she sinks into both the sweater and him, her head on his shoulder as her eyes fall shut.

And that's that.

"Good, because we both deserve to sleep in."

Maybe it's too easy to be a comfortable pillow when he's got this sweater on, or maybe Jesse's far too good at making him her pillow whenever she wants, but either way, it doesn't sound half bad a way to get to sleep.

So Lukas presses a kiss to her cheek before he puts out the candle again, lets his shoulders relax, and lies back so his head is resting on an actual pillow as he draws the blankets up. It's with a small smile that he lets the bulky, fuzzy blankets rest on Jesse's head; though when she stirs, for a second, shifting, he does the smart thing and goes still.

He does, at least, until he feels a warm nose on his cheek, the kiss she gives him joined by the smile he can feel that threatens to make the short kiss even shorter.

She mumbles something that sounds like it's somewhere between 'I love you' and 'goodnight', and it makes his own smile all the wider as she nuzzles him again, resting the side of her head on his chest as she seems to instantly relax again.

Lukas is still smiling as he wraps his arms around her inside the sweater, and the smile doesn't leave even when his breathing begins to slow.

(His newest gift later goes on the hanger right beside the ocelot sweater.

Maybe it's too early to tell, but he thinks Axel's going to have to work pretty hard if he wants to come close to topping this.)


	2. The Admin(s)

Fred is of the belief that everyone, everything, has a place in the world.

Not that he thinks he's one to say where that is for anyone, even himself, but he's rather pleased with where he is right now, his blanket draped around his shoulders as he stays hunched over his book, enjoying the crackles and pops coming from the fire as he rests his elbow on the top of the bookshelf beside his bed, curled into the corner created by it and his own mattress as well as he can.

It's not even really his book; as a nice change of pace, it's Xara's, and recently written too.

She doesn't write as often as Fred or even Romeo, but there's something charmingly succinct to her style that Fred finds to be an enjoyable change from his own, and her own insights are always a pleasure to go over again. It's only the fiftieth time, he thinks, that he's read this one, and there are still some word choices that manage to both surprise and delight him.

It's undeniably pleasant, to read something he doesn't have memorized, and he really ought to return the favor by writing something new himself.

(Xara complains he's still too poetic for her tastes, if not as bad or dramatic with it as Romeo, and she's allowed to have her tastes and preferences, but it's only fair he provides more variety, supposing she ever grows bored with her axes and wants another way to pass the time.

Unlikely, but he certainly can't expect her to get invested if the available supply is too limited.)

There's something inherently wonderful, to just being together like this. To existing in harmony, warm in their little cottage while the rest of the world does as it pleases and freezes.

Not to say they're anything special, simply for existing peacefully; over time, they've discovered the many ways the other creatures keep themselves warm and protected during the icy times, but there's something undeniably just as cozy about thinking of their home as a protected den or burrow.

And finding out that they all could indeed survive well enough on their own in the cold was, and remains, a relief because it means Romeo stopped trying to drag the whole of the forest and the fields into their cottage every time it gets chilly.

Fred is dragged out of a particularly interesting memory, where Romeo had managed to fit several herds of animals into their cottage (in addition to at least one rather needy but friendly wolf pack), as well as dragged out of his book, by a sharp huff from Xara. They may be good at blocking each other out, a necessary skill at times when they'd rather be wrapped up in their own things, and while he's sure she and Romeo have been having some kind of conversation, the sharp sound lets him know that, whether he likes it or not, he's going to become involved in said conversation.

"Fred, could you _please_ find Romeo something to do besides bother me?"

Fred lifts his book again, voice at the perfect mix of monotone and chiding that he knows will be enough to get Romeo's attention.

"Romeo, leave Xara alone."

Fred has to bite his tongue as Romeo replicates Xara's huff, barely stopping his grin in time.

"Me? I'm not the one who started _throwing weapons_."

Throwing weapons is unlikely, given that Fred's sure he wasn't tuning them out that badly, but Xara does have some newly crafted and gifted axes that he can easily see her swinging at Romeo for pushing her too far.

It's a good sign she enjoys them, but he'd rather they not kill each other.

The blood's a rather large pain to clean up, and the aching that comes with respawning will surely lead to more bickering and complaining they really don't need.

Fred sighs as he lets the hand holding the book relax, said book tilting back in the process as he gives the two of them a look that, while flat, doesn't quite manage to hide the warmth in his voice or the small smile that wins the uphill internal fight and joins it.

"Xara, don't try to use your axes on Romeo."

"Hah!" Fred doesn't have to look to know Romeo's wearing a self-satisfied grin that will likewise drive Xara up the wall. Perhaps literally. "See?"

"Don't act so smug; you started it."

Fred chuckles as he sets the book down, turning down the option of blocking them out again just in case it really does turn into a case of not so accidental axe-throwing.

He really does love them, he loves them more than words can ever fully express, but they really are quite the pair.

It's tempting to stay curled up, but he stretches, letting the blanket fall back into a lump on the bed as he bends his arms over his head. He hesitates, for a moment, before passing Romeo and Xara, glancing out the frosty window before opening the door and stepping outside.

The two of them pause, the bickering lulling as soon as he opens the door, but they seem assured he'll be fine on his own and that he won't go too far, judging by the almost seamless return to the argument before he even shuts the door behind him.

Snow covers everything, to the point where, beyond sheer memory, the only way he knows where the iced over river winds is by the slightest dips in the thick white blanket. Their cabin may be the only thing not painted white, the rest of their home perfectly matching the still bare bark of the few birch trees scattered about the field, the darker oak trees looking nearly white themselves from the ice creeping up the trunks.

At this point, with no visible creatures roaming through the thick snow and the wind as still as can be, it's truly only the trees that are keeping the outside world from seemingly like an infinite crystallized sea of white, the sky itself filled with fluffy light clouds blocking out very little sunlight, no birds standing out amongst the much higher but equally crisp and blinding coat of winter.

Maybe one day they'll travel past the rolling hills and lush plains, interrupted only by their winding river, but he doesn't have much of a desire to leave when it looks so perfect right now, in this moment, in this place and time where they need and want for nothing.

Fred blinks as something slowly lands on his nose and, looking up, he notices that one of them, if not all of them, must be slowing things down again.

That makes it a rather long, but still rather perfect, moment, he supposes.

It's started to snow, but the large, fluffy flakes barely move through the air as they gradually descend.

Ah, well, who can blame them? It's easy, to want to drag these moments out, and given that it's something they can do, why shouldn't they?

It's a good day.

" _Fred_!" He grimaces, body stiffening as Romeo and Xara both shout for him. He gives it about a fifty-fifty chance they haven't seriously injured each other yet.

The sigh he gives shifts quickly into a tired chuckle as he turns back towards the cabin, opening the door with a soft click as he turns the knob.

They're going to be the death of him.


	3. Sunshine Institute

It's cold.

And it's wet.

(An odd combination, for the Sunshine Institute. Most of the time it happens to be openly and unbearably hot and dry, more comparable to a desert than an icy bog. It's not the first time it's gotten like this though, and the Warden almost pities whoever's ticked the Admin off this badly.

Really though, if the temperature keeps dropping, which it will the surlier Romeo gets, there might be nothing left of whoever it is to send here.)

But it could be worse.

Oh, how it could be worse.

He has a plush little office (with a large enough window to let him see everything he needs to see to remind him just how lucky he has it), full meals he doesn't have to fight for, a bed that's actually more than a stiff cot or a moldy mattress, cake to eat when his thoughts become too much and his stress skyrockets, no need to constantly kill zombies or fight for his life over something as simple as mushrooms...

It could be worse.

He came close, to being stuck like that, like them.

(Not that he'll ever go home, or ever leave this place. No one can, and no one ever does. At least he's not stuck in the way they are; he'd like to think his actions actually have some meaning and that he's part of what's keeping them in.

Which is ridiculous, because it's all just another one of the Admin's schemes. Who's where doesn't matter when they're all miserable and trapped, and Warden knows full well there's no difference to him between guests and associates and wardens as long as Romeo (and he'll never feel as honored or as lucky to know that name as the Admin seems to think he should) has them all right where he wants them.)

And he started out like that, maybe even worse, used and hurt in nasty machines to try and get the people who used to care about him to talk and behave.

He got sick of that pretty quickly, in the way that people do when they think they're going to die and that it's going to be slow.

Griefers adapt. People change.

It's natural.

Loyalty meant something to him, though, at one point. He can't forget that, because his mind won't do the decent thing and let him.

He doesn't think anyone can blame him for being a little lax with loyalty as a whole, though, considering it's what got him dragged to this infernal institute in the first place.

(There's a part of him that pointlessly wonders if leaving a friend to munch on rotting flesh for survival in what may be the dampest, nastiest part of the complex isn't being more than just a little lax, but this is how he survives. If he didn't make these kinds of sacrifices for other people, he'd be in that spot.

Besides, he's loyal. Loyal enough, anyhow, even if it is to an all-powerful deity who doesn't care any for him in return.)

At first, he remembers, the guilt did get to him, when people ( _friends_ ) shouted ( _screamed_ ) for help, which people are bound to do when they're put through drawn out starvation and torture. (They called for _him_ , used his name, refused to call him the Warden and, well, he just couldn't have that. It was against the rules, which meant they had to be punished, if only by the sheer fact that it added to the Admin's enjoyment of the betrayal he'd sparked, and when the Admin's happy, he's not making threats and audibly brainstorming ways to punish potential insubordination.)

He told himself he'd eventually get them all out, some nights, when it was just him and the gnawing guilt eating away at the back of his mind and adding on to the growing stress.

He was such a naive little idiot, too hopeful and gullible for his own good, though perhaps not as much as he could've been.

The whole institute seemed impossible to free even back then.

That was alright with him, though; it wasn't as if he cared much for any of the others.

It was a shame that they were all suffering, but as long as he got himself and his friends out, before any more damage, visible or otherwise, was done, they would be fine.

(There's a bitter smile on his lips when he glances away from the window, fingers almost absently tracing the smooth side of his eyepiece. Granted, they were already damaged before they got here. Messing around with fire and TNT for a living would do that to a person; it still seems like a perfect life compared to this.

At least they had been happy.)

That was all that mattered back then.

But being a warden let him see just how powerless he was and how impossible the world was to escape, which wasn't exactly the best motivator for sticking his neck out for doomed people.

Which was fine; it's easier to demoralize others when he has no hope himself, when all he has to do is tell the truth and watch their faith slowly but surely crumble, and it's easier to offer people a way up the ladder to 'save' their own hides when he was brought in at the very bottom.

And it's a person-eat-person world out there, especially down there, so he might as well be one of the better treated guests.

That's not to say there's no room for sympathy or compassion at the top, because technically there's nothing strictly going against what he really does or doesn't feel; there's just no way to show it, so what's the point?

It's cold, the chill sinking into his bones and nipping at his numbing fingers no matter how hot the fire blazes and roars in a fireplace fancier and more lavish than the majority of the institute itself.

And it's bitingly, miserably wet, what isn't damp instead toeing the line between sopping and soaking, and he tells himself that it's terribly uncomfortable and that that's the reason the hair on the back of his neck is standing straight up.

But it could be a hell of a lot worse.


	4. Christmas Cookies

The Order's kitchen fits in with the rest of their headquarters in the sense that it's normally beyond well stocked and roomy, and while Olivia can't begin to claim to have made more than a small dent in what serves as their pantry, she'd like to think she's managed to make it as busy as it typically is when they have an actual hired chef making food.

Granted, making enough cookies to potentially feed a small army will do that to any kitchen.

She knows most people would probably be more than happy to make holiday cookies for the Order, possibly even free of charge, but that's not quite what she's looking for. There's something relaxing, to baking, something relaxing that she could really use right now. Not being at Redstonia today doesn't mean all the stresses have suddenly vanished, or that engineering is any easier, and if she's being honest, while she's not opposed to baking with other people, the concept of actually having a hired chef is still awkward and new to her.

(It's not hard to imagine the benefits though, given that while she doesn't have one in Redstonia, she also tends to forget to eat more than is likely healthy for any normal person.)

She hums as she darts between the sink, the counter nearest to the ovens, and the ovens themselves, carrying various dishes that need to be cleaned to the sink, carrying the cleaned items back to where they should go and depositing them in a variety of filled but neat drawers, all the while checking the ovens in between trips around the whole of the kitchen in order to make sure none of the cookies are burning.

Maybe it says something that this is relaxed and easy paced for her, but it's better than ramming her head against a wall trying to figure out how to fix or improve a design.

It's been a relaxing day in general, or it has by their standards.

She's pretty sure Jesse, suffering from some nasty cold, has been tied to the bed, and even if she hasn't, Ivor's watching over her, which immediately means no work on that front under threat of death from various fronts.

(It's days like these where it would probably be easier if Jesse had an intern or an apprentice to help with the work load so she doesn’t push herself so far or to pick up the slack when she does need a break, but Olivia's also fairly certain that the mere idea of making someone else do work that Jesse could theoretically do would also just make Jesse break out in hives and work twice as hard, never mind crash _at least_ twice as hard.)

Lukas said he was going to be writing in his room the last time he saw her, and as far as Olivia knows, that's exactly what he's up to.

Not that she can blame him; it's a wonderful day to stay bundled up inside and be warm.

Granted, not everybody seems like they can take the hint.

That's why Petra and Axel went outside hours ago to train in the snow, which, if she knows anything about them, really means being happy idiots playing in as many chilly and creative ways as they can think of. Not such a bad thing either, and it certainly beats work.

"Stress-baking again?"         

Olivia, who has never been good at being dragged out of her thoughts at random, is just putting away the last of the now-clean measuring cups when she jolts, nearly pinching her finger in the drawer as she slams it shut.

She cuts off whatever yelp she was going to give as she looks up, turning so she can face the doorway and, in turn, face Axel and Petra as they survey the damage to the kitchen. The two of them seem to have peeled off most of their thicker clothes, Petra still wearing her coat while Axel hasn't shed his scarf yet, and happen to be grinning.

Never a good sign.

Whatever expression she has, and she's sure it's funny enough that she'll be lucky not to get any teasing for it, is replaced by a smile as she leans against the counter and crosses her arms, dishtowel hanging from her hand.

"I can bake without being stressed out."

Axel crosses his arms in return and Olivia has to fight off the urge to stick her tongue out at him as he chuckles.

"Yeah, you just never do."

"Okay, so maybe it just happens to line up this time with the perfect weather for cookies. I never hear either of you complaining about more sweets to eat, especially not cookies."

"It's because we only ever seem to get cookies when Lukas doesn't get to them first." Axel rolls his eyes, and Olivia more than happily returns the favor, as both he and Petra enter the kitchen, walking away from the doorway and closer to her.

And the cooling cookies that have yet to be decorated, as well as the bowl of cookie dough.

"Hey, that's what happens when you stay inside to read and write instead of go out to freeze." She shrugs, shoulders relaxing even as her voice takes on a warning tone. "If either of you start eating the cookie dough..."

"Either of us?" Petra raises an eyebrow as she leans against the counter across from Olivia, one of her shoulders nearly resting against the ovens.

"I might have more experience keeping Axel out of the bowl, but I know better than to trust you." It's Olivia's turn to grin as Petra practically pouts, huffing as she leans more against the counter. "You're not as sneaky as you think you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Petra lets the pout melt away in favor of a drier, wiry smile of her own as she sticks one of her hands in her coat pocket.

Olivia glances between her and Axel, whose attempts at inching closer to the cooling cookies while Petra and Olivia talk have not gone unnoticed.

She sighs, pinching at the bridge of her nose for a moment before letting her arms go back to being tightly crossed.

She's going to regret this.

"It means if you two really want to help, we can get started on the frosting and sprinkles and that way I'll give you the finished cookies without you having to steal them."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"If some of the frosting goes missing, I might not notice." Axel's grin is both toothy and wide enough to look painful, and Olivia can't help but wince. There's a clear error in giving any form of permission here, and she's quick to add to it before he gets too many ideas. " _Some_ , Axel, not all."

"Oh, sure, single me out." He rolls his eyes, despite already shifting towards where the bowl of frosting is. "I can take a hint."

"Not really." Olivia gives him a flat look and is sure to give Petra the same courtesy as her tone goes dry. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be in here trying to steal everything."

Petra just grins back, shrugging even as she glances at the bowl of frosting.

"We just want to help."

It's at this point that Olivia finally uncrosses her arms, looking both of them up and down. Despite having been inside for at least a few minutes, their cheeks are still flushed pink, likely from the biting wind, and their hands remind her more of bones than flesh, given how stiff and white they look.

Oh yeah, a snowball fight definitely happened.

"You two must be freezing." She's not at her most observant today, but the smell of cookies likely played only as big a part in getting them to come to the kitchen as the heat coming from the possibly overworked ovens did. "You're not going to be much help like that. Does hot chocolate sound okay?"

"Sold." Petra's grin softens more as she stays by the ovens. "But you probably could've just offered us that in exchange for not stealing the cookie dough in the first place."

Olivia grimaces as she glances up at Axel, who's got a look in his eye like somebody does when they know they've won and they've got no reason to back down.

"Too late to change the deal?"

There's already some frosting on his lip when he grins back at her and Olivia is reminded that she has had Bad Ideas and that she maybe feels just a little played.

" _Way_ too late."

Still, a deal's a deal, and it's not long before they're all drinking hot chocolate and discussing some of Olivia's interesting design choices.

(It's not really a batch of holiday cookies if there aren't at least some redstone torch shaped ones, she insists, and it's festive enough and she's ready to defend it enough that the teasing stays fairly light. It helps that, to be fair, the ones meant to be present shaped could easily be decorated to look like TNT, and Olivia used the sword shaped cookie cutter they had lying around just because she could, so Petra's got no reason to complain.)

They're finishing off their hot cocoa when Lukas sticks his head in, his goggles pushed up on his head as he raises an eyebrow. Heat probably doesn't play as much of a role in this case as the thick smell of the cookies does.

"Are those cookies?"

The ovens continue blazing away in the background as the three of them share a look, Olivia grinning even as she checks on the cookies again.

"Get in line."

And he does, ending up in the middle of their little line as he takes care of taking cookies off trays and putting them onto the cooling racks.

Which may not be the best choice, because she's pretty sure they were right earlier and Lukas is sneaking cookies, but she has a point to make and is happy letting everybody stay where they are instead of stirring up more silly bickering.

Besides, she likes less frosting on her cookies anyhow, so everybody wins.

(Except poor Jesse, but when Olivia later hands Ivor a plate of oddly but vibrantly decorated cookies, there's an understood agreement that at least one gets saved for Jesse.)


	5. The Scavengers Below the Bedrock

Time used to have meaning once, back when there was a sun to see rise and fall, back when day and night meant more than sleeping in shifts and eyeing hapless idiots traversing the dead husk of what once was a world worth living in.

They think the sun's still there, past the bedrock, but it's possible that was taken away too, just to squash whatever hope was left in the dead little shell of a dying world.

It's a bad sign when your gods go quiet.

It's worse when they actively condemn you, taking away everything that makes you happy and everything that keeps the world going.

Maybe part of it's on the people inside that ugly bubble, but they'd lost their gods, their leaders, their friends, and practically anything they could use to keep living semi-normal lives.

Like the weather.

There was a time when it used to snow.

It was so long ago that if everyone else didn't swear it happened too, they'd probably doubt themselves.

Snow was white. Actually white, not the faded browns and yellows of what they have left of books and maps, shining in light in a way far purer than how the dingy glow of lava reflects off of broken lamps. It was soft and hard and crystalline, unique with every flake, and it was cold. And wet. They haven't had anything but dry heat and drier, nipping cold in the darkest corners and loneliest caverns since the bedrock was placed.

Rain is still a fresher memory, slightly more believable, but just as impossible. The only thing that's touched most of the dead, crusty grass has been lava and monster claws.

There used to be holidays, when it snowed. To keep everybody's spirits up and bring people together, before desperation tore them apart and lumped them together with other desperate people. They didn't have to wear old, mangled animal hides then, to hide from monsters.

But then, there had never been this many monsters, and never any that were this horrifically twisted.

The idea of a holiday kind of seems like a disgusting waste, now that they can look back on how care free everyone was, all the stuff they could indulge in and share and give away, but the feelings attached to the fading bits and pieces of memories are too sweet, partly bitter or otherwise, to let be twisted as badly as everything else has been.

It was a celebration of life in a time that felt lifeless.

(They were wrong, all so very wrong. There had been so much life in everything back then, even in the coldest and darkest of months, from the snow swirling to the ground to the wind tugging at spiky but still living tree branches.)

There hasn't been much life anywhere except for the stragglers who haven't died to lava or monsters,

No one's spawned into this world in a long time.

Some of them think it's because no place in the world is safe for new life.

Others mutter it's because this isn't a world anymore so much as it is a demented prison they're all stuck trying to survive in.

(Personally, they think that if there are still people spawning in, it's past the wide expanse of lava and mobs to where Fred's Keep is. It's the only place anything seems to really live, maybe in part because the open space is too dangerous for even a band of scavengers to cross and even more dangerous for them to waste time and energy getting to the bridge that can't cross and is too easy to get cornered by demented monsters on.

They've lost people on that bridge before. No matter how good the resources, it's not worth the risk, and if there are new people spawning there...

Then even they'll run out of supplies eventually. Mycelium can't keep them all protected and fed forever.

They're all just stuck here, clinging to empty memories and hollow dreams.)

Creatures don't spawn either; creatures that aren't monsters hungry for blood, at least. For a while, they think there were terrified herds left that could've been bred, but most of them ended up killed in lava flows or by desperate hungry people who panicked.

Desperate people like them.

Maybe not, though.

It's been so long that it's hard to remember.

It's hard to remember and even harder to think of anything but blistering heat and constant darkness, interrupted only by the too warm glow of lava or torches, screeching monsters roaming and hunting at all times.

They think they used to eat big, intricate meals, where everyone ate far more than they needed to but were happy all the same, smiling and laughing with each other.

It might just be wishful thinking, at this point.

The others like to tell them they're delusional, and they're not sure if it started as a joke or if it started as complaining but maybe they're right.

They can hardly remember anything other than the stringy taste of burned spider meat and rotting flesh.

But past that, just past that, in a tiny dwindling corner of their mind, are cookies. Hot chocolate. Warm food and warm company.

They can't even remember when the holiday they're thinking of was supposed to be celebrated.

None of them will be celebrating for a long time.

But in the darkest corner of the cave they're all using for shelter, a corner that's cold and safe and made slightly warmer by all of them huddling together for warmth, they can close their eyes and imagine. It takes a bit of work, to make the ghasts shrieking in the distance and rattling of bones sound remotely like ringing bells and crooning voices, but it's not a bad way to get to sleep.

They're so delusional at this point where it just doesn't matter, and for once it might not be a bad thing.

Maybe just this once they'll try not to bitter, about the haunting dreams that they know they'll have that will just taunt them of the life they used to have.


	6. Radar

The wind is distant, constant but muffled behind the thick blue curtains, and it sounds more like the thudding of hammers than the whistling howls that were winding through the city the night before.

It's also proving to be far more soothing and too much like a lullaby, and the urge to sink back into sleep is fought back by the increasingly shrill shrieks of Radar's alarm. So, with great disappointment, one hand grabs his glasses from where they always are, right beside the alarm that the other hand turns off, and Radar pauses as he sits up to rub at one of his eyes with the freer of the two hands and stifles a yawn before he puts the glasses on.

It's with greater difficulty that he pries himself from the bed, socks shuffling against the carpet as he makes his way over to the covered window. He pushes his slipping glasses back into place as he tugs the curtains to the sides, smiling as he looks down at the rest of the city.

There's something incredible about living in Beacontown, and while the wonder may never go away, there's something nice too about knowing what to expect.

(Never mind that he lives in the Order's temple, which has a novelty of his own he knows will never go away. There's definitely the added bonus as well that said building happens to have what might just be an awesome view from every window.)

Market vendors have already set up and prepared their stalls, stores and businesses are opening their doors, he can see at least a few dogs being chased down the street by their owners, and several birds take to the air from the trees growing along the front of the Order's headquarters.

There's nothing unusual about that.

What is unusual is what's below the birds, on the trees and stalls and stores, and even dotting his own window.

While he knows what most people think, Radar doesn't like to consider himself easily startled, even if he certainly is.

But he might spend a good solid minute just gawking out his window, only looking away when he realizes his glasses are sliding down his nose again, blinking as he shoves them back up.

Radar knows what that is.

He means, of course he knows, but it's... it's not weird that something like this should take him off guard.

Especially not when all things are considered.

The far too long amount of time he spent in Champion City was in the warmer months, and the place he'd lived before that had been more rural, a small but spread out village sprawling between a desert and a savanna.

Rain had been rare enough.

Granted, Radar's seen snow before plenty of times.

In books.

Well, okay, he's seen white lumpy stuff in illustrations and read detailed descriptions that sound too weird and too interesting to really be true, but still.

It's not as if most people have already seen snow and aren't at all surprised by it, except that they have, particularly in Beacontown with the wide variety of tourists and travelers.

(What would Jesse say?)

Radar winces, stiffening before he turns away from the window and begins getting ready for the day. He doesn't want to be late, not that time's an issue given where he happens to live, and he really doesn't need her to find out about this.

It would be so embarrassing, if she knew he'd never seen snow before.

What kind of intern would that make him? Getting excited over the weather like a complete loser?

(Or worse, a hick?

Stella had loved calling him that, probably because she knew just how much it got under his skin. As much as he hates to think about it, or most things involving her, it worked. It motivated him to be better.

It also eventually motivated him to quit, but that's another thing he never wants Jesse to find out about.)

He should've been to a snow or ice biome at least once by now, or have actually gone somewhere where the winter weather was more interesting than fluctuating between being dry and freezing and being soggy and chilling.

Radar grimaces as he straightens out his clothes, brushing his hair back with a hand as he smiles at the mirror, checking that his teeth look okay.

He's supposed to be professional, and because he wants to impress Jesse, not because he feels like he _has_ to.

(There's a big difference between the two.)

He can't blow this.

There's no way he's going to screw up just because he's too interested in frozen water.

It's not a busy day, which is the good part, especially given that the other Order members are visiting and that always eats up Jesse's time, even if it's in the best of ways. The most Jesse has to do is sign off on some paperwork and do what she wants, which is see how the holiday decorations are coming around the city.

He can do this.

* * *

And in fairness, he does.

He finishes breakfast before Jesse's even started, which keeps him from having to worry about slipping up during early morning small talk, and this time she's more interested on doing her duties around town than he is, so from there it's shared excited holiday talk.

All the official city decorations are either looking good or coming along well, particularly the multi colored torches and lamps, and Radar lets himself relax as they end up back in what serves as the Order's expansive backyard, double checking their own more personal decorations.

"Radar?" And it occurs to him that Jesse had just said something before she said his name, just as it occurs to him that he has no idea what it was she said.

This is a great way to start the day.

"I— y-yeah?" Radar pulls his hand, which had been tracing one of the cool looking ice sculptures, back to rub his neck as he smiles up at Jesse, straightening up as his other hand's grip tightens on his clipboard. "Sorry, Jesse, what was that?"

"I asked if you wanted to take a break. We can always get back to this stuff later." His brow furrows and he regrets it as her smile turns even more sympathetic. "There's not really much we can do right now that we haven't already anyway, and you look pretty cold."

"Oh, I'm fine." His smile should be convincing, because he really doesn't want to be what holds them back, but he bets he's failing at that too. "We're almost done."

"Are you sure—" Jesse cuts herself off, and for a moment Radar has to wonder if his hearing is actually acting up, but the next second she's shoving him to the side. It's incredibly lucky that he doesn't face plant into the thick blanket of snow covering all the ground around them, and he'd probably ask Jesse what that was for if he wasn't so busy trying to stay upright. It becomes pretty clear why he’d been shoved, though, once he straightens up and sees the lump of snow clinging to the shoulder of her coat, Jesse already turning to face behind them as laughter, somewhere between booming and cackling, starts up. "Axel!"

(Radar is also just realizing Jesse also pushed him away from the ice sculpture so he wouldn’t fall into it, and he tries not to feel as guilty as he does.)

"You snooze you lose!" Axel doesn't stop grinning even as he stops laughing, standing beside what looks like a pretty sizable stash of snowballs. "Sorry, Jesse, but I guess you're just losing your touch!"

Her grin matches his and Radar knows this can't be good.

"We'll see about that!"

Jesse takes off laughing, running towards the pile of ammo, and that's when Radar notices that Petra's outside with them and already scooping up snow from her position on the other side of the yard, near Axel.

Oh thank Notch.

That's right.

He works for crazy people.

 _Wonderfully_ crazy people, the best and most inclusive he's probably ever met, and there's no doubt in his mind that he couldn't be any luckier.

Just as there's also no doubt in his mind that he better pick a team if he wants to survive.

(Okay, he's not surprised either that he follows behind Jesse, clutching the clipboard to his chest as he bolts, but he's pretty sure there's a clause about snowball fight loyalty somewhere in his contract, and even without fear for his job he'd never turn on Jesse.)


	7. Decorating (Em/Nell)

Somehow, they manage to turn the ever-tedious process of hanging up decorations into a game.

Not that it's all that surprising, all things considered.

Nell's always been good at making the most boring things fun or somehow cheery. The holiday season seems like it was practically made for her, in that regard.

It's similar to how Em seems built for decorating, in the way that she's 'luckily' tall enough and with long enough arms to reach places other people might not be able to, which means she's made for the inherently boring part. It just means she's extra lucky to be around somebody like Nell who can make those parts interesting.

Still, when it's a game, it's a game, and she'll take all the advantages she can get.

"I win." And that's why she grins as widely as she does, tying the end of some horribly tinsel-ribbon hybrid off at the top of one of the ocean themed columns in the shop.

Tacky? Definitely. Fitting in with the rest of the kitschy surfer store in the best way possible? Absolutely.

And Nell, who finishes her share only a few moments later as she places a surf board shaped ornament on the little tree by the counter, frowns up at Em in a way that can and should only really be described as a pout.

"Dude, that's cheating."

Em grins back as she crosses her arms, leans against the post.

"No it's not."

"It totally is." Nell's pout twists into something of a sly grin, small but meeting her eyes, as she straightens up and walks over to Em. It's hardly a bad thing, but Em becomes extremely aware of just how warm her face feels as Nell starts playing with her hands, linking their fingers. "I'd either have to climb a ladder or climb you to be able to reach that high."

It's easier to grin back, flushing face or not.

"It's not my fault you're short."

"And it's not my fault you're tall." Nell shrugs as she pulls away, smiling up at Em. "But it _is_ my fault I've got your wristband."

Em notices far too late her wristband isn't actually on her wrist and that a certain someone happened to pull it off while they were holding hands and she was distracted.

Said certain someone is now grinning.

(It's hardly the first, or fiftieth, time that Nell's worn or taken her wristband, but it's the principle of the thing and it's part of why it's so easy to have fun with somebody who's willing to make everything fun.)

"...seriously?"

Nell twirls the wristbands, moving her finger just enough to make it spin as one shoulder gently moves in half a shrug.

"I never said I wouldn't be a sore loser; gotta keep it interesting, right?"

And, unexpected twists in decorating or not, Em's more than happy to let her teeth show as she grins back at Nell.

"You're on."

On one hand, it's almost a shame that Nell knows her so well, because she scrambles out of the way just before Em can charge her. Still, Em keeps herself from tripping over the empty box that Nell had been standing beside, turning without losing almost any speed.

Thanks to undesirable past events, they're both technically on equal footing, but they've got their specialties.

Em has experience chasing.

Nell, in return, has experience being chased.

So while Em doesn't lose hardly any speed, Nell's already ducked behind the other side of the counter and, as Em quickly finds out, dove through the open door on that side and into the backroom.

Which has two likewise open doorways, one going to the bedroom and the other to storage.

Nell's the type of scrawny person who's good at being quiet when she actually wants to be, so that means hiding in storage is just as likely as, if not more so than, hiding out in the bedroom.

The shop's closed today as it is, which is part of why all the doors are open and they're screwing around so much.

They've got time, realistically, and all the same Em's not waiting any longer than she has to to get her wristband back.

Em's just poked her head into the bedroom, which looks plenty disturbed thanks to the sunlight trickling in past the snow blocking up most of the window and the blankets that are both on the bed and floor, when the hair on the back of her neck stands straight up as somebody rushes by behind her.

Reflexes are a wonderful thing, even if it means Em's chasing after Nell back into the main shop before the rest of her realizes that's even what she's doing.

Nell stops in the middle of the shop, right under a large arch in the ceiling that separates the two sides of the store, and while her suddenly going still doesn't make any sense to Em, she knows an opportunity when she sees one. Her arms wrap around Nell's waist, securing her in place in case she does try to bolt last second, and turn her to face Em.

"Gotcha!" On the bright side, Nell's grinning. She's happy, so that's good. But what Em doesn't get it what she keeps glancing up at, and she finds her own gaze trailing up as her brow furrows. "What are you...?"

Oh. That.

That would be the mistletoe that she had attached to the arch when they started putting up decorations.

"Oh."

"Yup." And Nell sounds too pleased with herself in a way that makes Em feel way too happy.

"You planned this." It's not so much a question or even an accusation as it is a statement. Nell's always pretty good when it comes to thinking ahead.

"Oh, totally. Not bad, right?"

It's not, but Em chooses to ignore just how well she's been played in favor of realizing something else.

"You had no idea if the kissing under the mistletoe thing happens at all where I'm from." She raises an eyebrow, half smiling as Nell just sort of shrugs again at the observation.

And they definitely never had anything like that during the Games.

"Nah." Nell starts focusing on her hands again, not so much trying to push Em's arms away as she briefly twists to place the wristband back on her left wrist before shifting back to face her. "We don't do it back home, but Jesse says it's a big enough thing here, so..."

"You're such a dork. You know you can just ask, right?"

Nell's smile softens as she nods, wrapping her arms around Em.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

She's in love with such a happy, sappy dork and she couldn't be happier about it.

"You're ridiculous."

"But you love me anyway." The words are almost singsong as Nell leans into Em, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

There's an obscene amount of kissing and laughing after that, way too much for only a little bit of mistletoe, and neither of them are complaining about it.


	8. Caroling (Ivor/Harper)

Harper's dealt with and seen enough complexities in her life to know that very little good comes from focusing too much on 'good' and 'bad'.

That said, she's pretty sure this is karma, even if she's not sure which kind.

It's understandable, though, and it's not like she can argue with it.

Jesse's been almost unfairly kind to Harper, after what she did to Crown Mesa and the trouble she caused her and her friends even after Jesse stood up for her.

There are a million ways she'd rather have introduced them to the Games, a number of which are just 'not at all', but what's done is done.

So she expects, even now, just maybe a little bit more hostility towards Harper from Jesse, given that she happens to be the reason Jesse and her friends either all died or were imprisoned in obsidian. For the most part, Jesse never lives up to that expectation, only further bewildering Harper with a warm home and warm meals and even warmer and nicer company from her and the rest of the Order.

Especially Ivor.

But everything has to come at a price. And she's racked up a pretty steep one, and surely her inventions can't be enough of a way to pay Jesse back now, after everything.

But...

This?

Well, it's a punishment, just not one Harper expected.

And Jesse doesn't mean it that way, she knows, and it shouldn't feel like one, especially given that nobody in this world really holds much against her.

Most of the people here have no reason to, to be fair.

They don't know her as much beyond one of Jesse's allies, despite the success of Lukas's books.

Still, not even competitors from the Games who've moved to Beacontown seem to hate her or even dislike her, which is impressive, even if she had little to do with the Games themselves.

So maybe Ivor's just rubbed off on her too much, which doesn't sound as bad as that might make it sound.

Bottom line, Harper can't help but dread the looming evening caroling.

It sounds sweet and lovely, like most things involving Jesse and holidays, and the hot chocolate and company will be as appreciated as always on such a cold day, grey as iron and with thick snow twice as cold as freezing metal, but the singing?

She can have the company and the treats by the fireplace later.

So maybe she's hoping, just a little bit, to get out of it.

"Working already?"

Which would be a lot easier to get away with if she didn't happen to have a workshop in the temple where Ivor could find her in or someone who cares as much to check on her as he does. It's not so much that she's working early as she's working late, and when she starts she probably wouldn't stop for hours if she didn't have him to drag her to bed. She may have redstone in her hair already and too many formulas running in her head, but he knows her and, damn him, he cares and she can't love him enough for it.

Harper cuts off a groan as she smiles up at him, looking away from the increasingly marked up blueprint in her hands.

He's standing there with a raised eyebrow, a fuzzy sweater on, and right by her side. She has no idea how long he's been there, though likely not for more than a few seconds.

Trying to get away with things or not, she really can be too unobservant when she gets busy at her worktable.

"What else would I be doing?"

"The caroling starts soon." She ducks her head back down a bit too quickly, hand gripping the edge of the blueprint, and she has to keep herself from wincing. "I thought you'd be joining us."

It almost sounds... hesitant.

Ivor's many things, including extremely versatile, and Harper's witnessed a number of widely switching and fluctuating emotions. He springs to life just as often as he goes limp and mopey, his voice either over dramatic in the best of ways or subdued and hushed, but even then it's always full of energy.

It's not often that said energy falters.

Touchy territory.

"Do you know how long it's been since I actually sang?" Harper sighs, smiling weakly as she looks back up at him, resting her chin in her hand as her elbow pins down the side of the blueprint that's determined to curl.

To her surprise, he smiles, a chuckle escaping him as his shoulders relax.

"If that's all you're worried about, I can assure you no one's ever on key for caroling."

Her smile gets wider as her posture relaxes, lifting her head as her hand goes back to holding the blueprint, now half curling the side up.

"Not even you?"

"I'm a welcome exception." He grins at her, before picking at the sleeve of his sweater as said grin twinges, nearly grumbling when he continues. "As welcome as I can be, after everything."

He doesn't sound defeated or half as anxious as he had moments ago, and she knows he has nothing to worry about.

Even if she can absolutely understand what's likely eating at him.

"If I'm going to sing, even though I can't, I'm sure they'll appreciate hearing someone who actually can." She lets her smile turn teasing to match her tone as she nudges him in the side. "Especially if it's _everyone else_ that's always off-key."

She declines mentioning that she knows Jesse's the one who helped his singing voice recover after far too many years of going neglected.

He might not consider his singing perfect, or maybe he really does, but it's always been perfect to her.

Besides, he's made real progress, progress she knows she's sorely lacking.

"Oh, trust me, I know I'm not getting out of this one. Jesse's made that painfully clear." Well, it's nice not to be alone. Not that she thinks Ivor would ever let her, but sometimes circumstances help. "And knowing her, it'll all turn out fine. I just think it would be more enjoyable if you came along."

She looks at him, smile fading into what she knows is an unreadable expression, before she sighs, letting her head hand even as she chuckle and fully rolls the blueprint back up.

She loves him so much.

Harper sets it on the edge of the work bench, narrowing her eyes at Ivor as she does.

"If you laugh..."

"I would never." He raises a hand almost solemnly, the grin already back on his lips betraying him as it meets the warm look in his gaze. "The funniest thing about all this is that you think I would."

Harper manages to keep up the stern look for another moment before it too falls, chuckling even as she kisses him on the cheek.


	9. Petra

It's been an odd winter day, grey and drab and bitter cold, winds biting through their layers of clothes and their flesh and freezing them right through their bones, but without any snow. There are enough clouds, even now, to turn the sky into a promising sheet of lumpy charcoal colored fluff, but even after a day of nothing but, there’s still no snow to show.

No snow also meant no reason not to do all the busy work that needed to be done earlier that day, even if it's maybe the one time Petra honestly thinks she would've preferred doing paperwork if it meant being able to stay inside.

By the time they all dragged their wind-beaten exhausted bodies back home, all they wanted was food and sleep.

She's only got one down for sure right now, but paperwork's the last thing from her mind. It can do the decent thing and wait until they actually get a proper snow day.

There's an unlimited number of advantages to being beloved heroes, right now the most obvious ones being a large roaring fireplace, thick warm blankets on a large comfortable couch, and more cookies than any person really needs to eat but still can.

Okay, the last one's more of just a general advantage to having Jesse and Olivia as friends.

Still, Petra won't turn down any holiday cookies.

Or the fudge that Jesse decided to make for the heck of it, because it's official that Jesse can't relax until her body collapses and makes her. The good news on that end of things is that it won't take long, seeing as Jesse is definitely way past that point already, judging by how much she's leaning into Petra and the couch and nuzzling her.

It makes reading interesting, but it's the kind of easy challenge Petra has no problem taking. It's just as easy to poke fun at Jesse for it (and other things).

"Hey, Jesse? I hate you."

It might be because of the nonchalant way she says it, or that she's smiling down at Jesse when she does, but Jesse doesn't seem very bothered by it.

"Why?" Jesse smiles back up at her, pausing in her relentless snuggling of Petra's arm and side to rest her chin on Petra's shoulder. Petra just rolls her eyes, still smiling as she eats another piece of fudge.

"Because thanks to you I'm hooked on chocolate."

It's not like they got all the fudge or cookies or anything. Olivia's good at keeping that stuff under lock and key so that everybody gets something, which is nice, but she apparently didn't stop Jesse from bringing them a small plate of each.

And Lukas, who's sitting on Jesse's other side, hasn't passed the plate of cookies any further than Jesse since he snatched it up.

Lukas gets to hoard the cookies? Petra gets to hoard the fudge.

"Haven't you always been hooked on chocolate?" Lukas looks up from his journal, googles slightly skewed as they rest on top of his head. It says something that the bags under his eyes are almost as dark as the goggle lens.

"Yeah, but now I'm actually getting it."

Jesse's a horrible enabler in the same way that she's a wonderful friend.

Said enabler sinks back into Petra, wrapping both her arms around Petra's middle as Jesse gives a short, light hum.

"You're welcome."

Unsurprisingly, Jesse doesn't seem to find any problem in this, which is good because there isn't really one in the first place.

They sit there for a few more minutes, reading and writing and hopefully with Jesse actually sleeping, before Lukas sets his journal down on the table beside the couch and lies down.

Lying across both Jesse and Petra with his head on Petra's stomach, a feat made all the easier by the way Petra's part collapsed on the couch an leaning back into it.

"Goodnight."

And while Jesse turns, pulling her legs out from under him to lie more beside Lukas, Petra can't exactly do the same thanks to Jesse's grip, still on Petra, and the fact that his head happens to be on her.

"What are you doing?" Petra pauses mid page turn, fingers pinching the corner of a page with a particularly detailed illustration of a mob being beheaded, and she frowns when she glances back down at Lukas. "No. Get off. There's no way you're using me as a pillow."

It would probably be plenty more effective if she did anything else, but she doesn't move to push him off or shift away, and, a little harder or not due to positioning and being exhausted, they all know she could.

But she's not a jerk.

"I am _absolutely_ using you as a pillow." Lukas tugs the blanket still wrapped around himself, pulling it up to his shoulders as he settles. "Seems fair to me; I never complain when you do this to me."

Petra snorts, going back to her book. She almost doesn't answer him at all, shifting her own blanket to make sure it's covering her feet.

"Oh yes you do."

The dying fire crackles as the flames flicker, bright orange as they rise from the glowing ash and charred remains of wood.

"So maybe I complain; that never keeps you from doing it."

Petra's not too haughty to disagree when he has a point, so she doesn't. She just brings up one of her own.

"Because you actually make a good pillow."

"So do you."

Petra tilts her book again, sticking her tongue out at Lukas as her smile threatens to get larger, only to stop as there's a mumble from Jesse.

"He's right." Jesse tugs both of them a bit closer. "Petra, let him use you as a pillow."

They two of them share a look, Lukas smiling as Petra slumps more into the couch, resting her arm along the back. It doesn't escape Petra the way Jesse shifts, an arm loosely wrapped around Petra's waist while Jesse keeps her head turned slightly so it can rest on Lukas's shoulder, and she doubts it escapes Lukas either.

They're tired, not outright oblivious.

"We're both being used."

It's a clear abuse of Jesse's position as leader.

An abuse she's absolutely allowed by being their friend.

"Big time." Petra rolls her eyes, still smiling as she eats another piece of fudge. "And bribed the whole way."

"Could be worse."

Petra can't argue there. She's been used in far worse ways by far worse people. If this is the worst Jesse has in store? Things are going pretty good.

Jesse grumbles again, not opening her eyes or lifting her head as she attempts to bury her head more into the crook of Lukas's neck.

"I'll make gingerbread later if you guys shut up and go to sleep."

Petra's gaze softens as she chuckles, hardly any louder than the small dying snaps and pops of the fire, lowering her voice a bit more.

"What, not enjoying your pillows?"

"Not when they're chatty." She doesn't even sound cranky so much as exhausted and it's hard not to grin. She shouldn't be allowed to be that cute. "Too tired."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with trying to get us to sleep and getting us to eat more cookies, would it?"

"Maybe." Jesse opens her eyes this time, grinning as she glances up at Petra. "I don't think I'll have to work too hard at either."

Lukas chuckles and Petra would almost feel betrayed if she didn't agree entirely.

"She's got a point."

Petra gives a short nod, lifting the book still in her hand as she looks from him to Jesse.

"You know I'm never going to finish this book."

"And I'll never finish writing mine if I don't get any sleep." She'd be disappointed with Lukas if this wasn't an expected betrayal and if he wasn't as right as he is. They've all been up way too long.

"Shhh." Jesse doesn't have as wordy a contribution to make, but it's gentle and cute and Petra gives in as she sets her book to the side, eating the last piece of fudge on the plate.

(A quick look proves that the small cookie tray has long since been finished off. Drat.)

"You guys are such dorks."

The next contribution is a little sharper, coming from both Lukas and Jesse, and would probably be easier to take seriously if they didn't both also sound so close to laughing.

"Shhh."

Petra smiles as she grabs one of the actual pillows by the arm of the chair and places it under her head, letting her body fully relax.

She's slept sitting up before, and she knows this position won't leave a crick in her neck the way trying to lie down without bothering either of them would.

Her breathing's just started to slow when Olivia enters from the kitchen, thankfully switching off the light from in there before it becomes too much of an annoyance. Petra's eyes are half lidded, not helped by the gentle glow of the nearly entirely finished fire, but she can tell when Olivia's ready to ask a question and when that question could wake too many people up.

Petra moves her hand, putting a finger to her lips as she nudges her head slightly towards Lukas and Jesse.

She's hardly subtle, but it's still a relief when Olivia just nods, smiling as she copies the motion, a finger to her lips as she disappears up the stairs.


	10. Gifts

To say that it's been an interesting year would be overwhelmingly understating things.

Maybe not as much as just saying they've been busy, but still.

There's always a good side, and while Jesse's more than happy to see something good come their way and see that something good as the number of presents they're all opening, he also appreciates the new company in the Order Hall.

Jack and Nurm are bound to make anything interesting, sometimes simply by being around, but Jesse's not complaining.

Apparently, thanks to the colder weather and how warm it can get in the shop when Jack makes armor and weapons, the 'parrot problem' (Jack clarified that those were Nurm's words, not Jack's) gets considerably worse in the winter, so they didn't want to make the Order visit them when they have enough issues in-shop.

For some odd reason they both seem to think they can't just crash at the Order hall, that they'll be making a trek back to their shop later when it's even colder and darker, despite knowing how many open rooms they have and how icy it is outside.

Petra might think that way for herself, which is frustrating and saddening on its own, but Jesse knows she's been just as open to inviting Nurm and Jack to stay, so it doesn't add up. Especially given how she and Jesse aren’t the only one, every other Order member, Ivor, and even Gabriel and Magnus, who are visiting, making the same very much clear on multiple occasions.

They should know they're plenty welcome by now.

Occasionally, though, guests who don't know they're welcome or not, someone’s bound to get the interesting wrapping of a box inside a box.

This gift goes a bit behind that, and Jesse's fairly sure it's mostly because of Jack, who's already beaming at him.

"Huh. A wrapped box in a shulker box in a chest." To top it all off, the chest has a bow of its own on it, large and red and still on top because Jesse can't bring himself to remove it. "You never do anything by halves, do you?"

Jack grins from his seat by the fire, looking oddly cozy in the fuzzy sword and snow themed sweater Axel gave him at the start of the whole gift giving process.

"The gift that keeps on giving." Nurm, wearing a red nightcap gifted to him by Olivia, hums in agreement before saying something, Jesse picking up on more than he would have months ago when he wasn't brushing up on his language skills, and Jack's grin only gets wider as he motions for Jesse to unwrap the likewise still bowed and wrapped box.  "Keep going, you haven't even gotten to the real thing yet."

“Yeah kid, don’t keep us waiting any longer.” Magnus grins from where he’s sitting on the couch, between Gabriel and Olivia and wearing a skewed woolen hat of his own, and Jesse can’t help but admit he’s got a point.

Curiosity isn’t always a good thing to entertain too long with griefers; it just makes them creative.

And Jesse, who's been told he's patient to a fault with the serious matters and plenty impatient with the pettiest of things, rips into the paper, opening the box before all of the wrap's even been torn off.

It takes conscious effort, not to drop the box entirely when he sees what's inside.

"Is this...?"

"Yup." Petra grins from where she's sitting between Jack and Axel, crossing her legs as she leans back against the wall, toll tipping slightly as she does. "You're welcome."

"When did you guys get an elytra?" It's a bit of a stupid question, given there's only one place to get actual ones instead of cheap knock offs and that everyone else's gifts have been wholly end-themed, but Jesse's common sense might just be a little preoccupied with the fact that he's holding an _elytra_ in his hands. Besides, all three of them are way too good at haggling, and being able to go to other worlds might make getting stuff like this easier, even if it doesn't make it any less special.

It feels silky and hard and lightweight as he lifts it out of the box and runs his fingers along the edges, soft and firm but giving in a way few materials ever should or could be, and while Jesse doubts he can get as excited over this as Lukas did about the end rods and end stone bricks, he's tempted to at least try.

"Where do you think?"

Axel’s the one who asks the question, and while it’s not a gift from him, he has a point that the three grins Jesse’s getting seem to reinforce.

"I have no idea how I can thank you guys enough for this."

The three of them exchange a look that's probably best described as exasperated.

"You've done enough already, Jesse. Just try to enjoy it." It might be a sign of its own that Jesse's not sure if Petra means the gifts he made them himself, from uneven and too long but creative scarves and knickknacks, or the stuff they've gotten through together as a team.

It's hard for Jesse to set the elytra down, gently and carefully though he does as he places it back in the box that he rests beside the shulker shell that's easily a gift in its own, but he does just in time to look back up and see Olivia nudge Radar forward, Radar gripping a large but unwrapped book as he hops down from his stool.

"And I don't know how I'm going to compete with that, but I hope you like it." Jesse has the book thrust in his hands almost as soon as Radar's close enough to do it, and Jesse's already smiling as he glances down at the book and the number of names scrawled on the cover.

"I'm sure it'll be great, Radar." Jesse glances up, looking around the room at the others. "How many of you guys worked on this?"

"It was something of a team effort." Ivor pauses to take a sip of his hot chocolate, looking cozy in his chair as he smiles at both of them. There's a look in his eye that tells Jesse this is going to be interesting even while Jesse still doesn't fully know what it is. "However, Radar wanted to be the one to present it."

Radar stays standing as Jesse turns his attention back to the book, smiling again at the names before he opens it and nearly drops the book.

It's a photo album.

They have a few already, including one made up of pictures of the old Order they managed to scrounge together, but the more the merrier.

It already seems like an awesome gift, with Jesse recognizing a number of the photos on the first page as fairly recent, with the following pages getting older and older.

All the way until a few pages in when they get really old and it feels like he's been socked in the gut. In the good way, if that's even possible.

It's just pages and pages of him and Reuben.

Jesse knows where each and every moment came from too, recognizing the photographs as ones Olivia took. Back before the Witherstorm, even back before they were worried about that year's Endercon, or even a number of the ones before that, Olivia liked messing around and experimenting with taking photos of them all while they were busy or having fun or even just doing nothing.

Her photos make up a good chunk of their current albums even now, but it's so cool to

There are pictures of Reuben curled up at Jesse's feet, sleeping in his lap, resting beside him while they both nap in the sun, a picture of an unsuccessful attempt at giving Reuben a bath after the rain had made the forest too muddy for anybody's good.

There's even a picture of the time Reuben helped him in a snowball fight against Axel, the back of Jesse's snow covered head fairly blurry but the snowball that he had thrown and that had smacked Axel upside the head in about as clear image as possible. Really, it's second only to Axel being caught trying and failing to dodge it and Reuben behind him, tripping him up enough and looking extremely pleased with himself for it.

And Jesse has to look up because the last thing they need is someone crying on the pictures.

"How did you make this?"

Radar rubs the back of his neck, swallowing as he gives a shaky smile.

"Oh, it's nothing, really. I just asked everybody if they'd be okay with giving me a few photos, so I put them in a book I got from the market in my free time, and it turns out there were some left in the tree house that nobody had moved yet, so then we all just..." Radar trails off, fingers tugging and twisting at the odd but cute tree themed tie he has on and pausing only to adjust his glasses, as he looks up at Jesse. "Jesse...? I... is it okay? You don't have to keep it if you don't want to."

Jesse's eyes are burning and that's okay, because he has the best friends he could ever ask for.

"It's perfect."

There is a lot of hugging.

And there's definitely some crying, but they've been through so much that Jesse certainly won't hold any of it back when he's happy. They could all use a little more happiness like this.


	11. Snowman

Morphing is hardly the only power admins have, and it's not even the most powerful or strange of their abilities.

But it is one of the newest ones that Romeo's been able to really play around with, so here he is.

Animal morphing is one thing, but inanimate objects? Hard but fun, and Romeo finds himself enjoying his crooked coal lump smile in the window's reflection as he adjusts his bow tie.

He'd intended to scare Xara again like he had before, the first time he figured out this particular morph's finished form, but he fears she's wiser now and also wisely fears having to deal with her axes again. It may be for the better that she and Fred are both curled up inside their cottage.

It gives him time to think, something Xara also likes to joke he doesn't do enough of as it is.

And with as much as things don't change, with as much as Romeo's used to the same books and same people and same place, there are a number of firsts he remembers more than fondly.

The first time it snowed was odd enough, in and of itself, and the first time he made it snow and learned how to control it was on a similar level.

He doesn't think either quite compare to being snow, even if this isn't technically his first time experiencing it.

But it is the first time he's been like this for such an extended period amount of time, from before the sun was close to going down to now, when the only light not coming from the cottage comes from the moon and the stars shining above, and he's pretty sure they've slowed down time several times since then that gives him plenty of time to experiment and experience these new things.

Like how different it feels now that the outside world is so much darker and icier.

What makes that interesting is that while it does indeed get colder, he knows there's a temperature change and something in the back of his mind lets him know just how well it dips below freezing, he doesn't feel any of the nipping or biting sensations there should be with such a drop, not without him consciously trying to warm himself up and he also knows he's not.

Instead, he's noticing that it almost feels more comfortable, like he's inside the cabin instead of sliding through the snow and ice outside it.

Which is an interesting sensation too, the lower ice block easily shifting through it all rather than on it or feeling as clunky as he maybe would expect a rounded base made of pure ice to be.

When the world is feeling the full force of winter, being made of snow makes things easier.

Even though he feels like he's made up of a million little pieces while also feeling like one solid form, because being made of snow is complicated and weird in amazing ways.

And while he's able to bend his arms in a way no sticks typically can, it feels off, stiff, though it doesn't take a genius to guess or explain why, and even bending his stubby wooden fingers feels odd, if not outright hard.

"You know you can come in, right?" Romeo blinks as he looks away from the falling snow, turning from the window to the now open door. It's letting warm light slip outside through more than just the foggy frosted window, and Fred holds it open as he raises an eyebrow at Romeo. "Xara promised she won't kill you if you don't try to pull that trick anymore."

As trustworthy a source as Fred is, Romeo still half expects this to be part of a prank so Xara can enact her revenge for being spooked so badly before.

But who's he to turn down an invitation?

And he's had enough introspection for one day. Being all on his own, even if he's just outside, gets boring, especially when he has them.

"What trick?" Voice shifting is a blast too, and even if Romeo's biased due to being the one with the most dramatic flair of the three of them, it doesn't keep his grin from getting wider or Fred's from softening. "I'm just having fun."

"Great! And neither of us mind that. But whether you melt or not, no snowmen inside." There's enough of a gentle no-nonsense tone to it that Romeo knows he means it, or Xara does, or more likely that both of them do, so he sighs as he lets his twiggy arms dangle at his sides, but Fred's growing smile lets him know that it succeeds in being amusing where it fails in getting anyone to change their minds.

Oh well.

"Alright, alright. Kill joy."

Morphing back is nearly as large of a thrill as the initial morphing, simple and easy as his clothes and skin shift seamlessly back to normal, snow replaced by dark shadowy flesh lined with glowing, glimmering crimson dashes and curves.

Glowing eyes at least make it easier to see in the dark than coal ones do.

Romeo stands there as the snow falls off of him in clumps, landing in the likewise soft snow and slush coating the ground before seemingly melting into it, a visual that's utterly pointless but too enjoyable not to use.

He smiles as he walks inside, Fred chuckling as he brushes one of the last lingering clumps out of Romeo's hair when Romeo passes him before shutting the door.

"What can we say? We happen to like our carpet." Which might be part of the real reason he's not a bloody smear on it right now, but Romeo just grins as he makes his way over to his bed. Xara happens to already be sitting there, which is odd for her, but it's not a problem and Romeo gets to leech off her body heat while sucking up the heat of the fire before she can.

And given that it's on purpose, he'd probably feel just a tad smugger about it all if Fred, built like a furnace and clearly purposefully acting as one, didn't sit down on Xara's other side, taxing the poor bed for space.

Still, it's how they all end up leaning into each other as they watch the fire, and Romeo has to conclude that it's much better in here than it ever could be out there, ability testing or not.

He's a sucker for cuddling and warm fuzzy feelings.


	12. Shopping for Presents

Beacontown isn't exactly the first place Slab visited after the games were revamped, but it was and is the only place that feels anywhere close to a home. It's leagues better than the place he came from, at least, and he actually likes the people here.

It's nice to be able to set everything, philosophies and morals and probably too much trauma, to the side and focus on something entirely benign.

Present shopping might be a pain and a struggle and a stressor to most people, but Slab isn't most people.

And doing it with Jesse, or rather helping Jesse with hers, helps.

Speaking personally, he has his own doubts about how well people can stand being in positions of power without letting any of that go to their heads, but even after a few years, Jesse handles it remarkably well. And her people seem to expect it, with how happy but relaxed they manage to still be while seeing and interacting with her.

Stall keepers and cashiers do always seem to get that way with any shoppers, though.

"You're impossible to buy things for, you know?"

Slab raises an eyebrow as he looks away from the variety of intricate if admittedly odd knickknacks and pieces of jewelry, turning his head only to be greeted by a look from Jesse that's equally accusing and amused.

"Is that so?"

"It is! On one hand, you might like Lukas's latest book, but on the other, maybe you'd like a new diamond sword."

She knows him so well.

"I'm a complicated individual." Slab grins, leaning in slightly as he gives a more conspiratorial whisper. "Though I might already have his latest novel, while my sword just isn't slicing the way it used to..."

Jesse chuckles as Slab straightens back up. He might not like playing to the stereotype that he's a mindless brute, but a working weapon is a good weapon, and there's no shame in defending himself and those he cares about.

"Got it." She doesn't pause as she scrawls something in the notebook, merely smiling as she goes back to half-browsing the stall before she picks up one of the items for sale, handing over several smooth bits of gold to the stall keeper as she glances up at Slab again. "When did you get a copy?"

He lets his grin go toothy, even as he acts more interested in inspecting the icicles creeping over and hanging from the various stall awnings and store roofs.

"You're not the only one who Lukas went to for proof-reading."

Jesse snaps her fingers once as she tsks, shaking her head as she flips through the notebook, crossing out another name. The bracelet, flat and smooth black stone connected lengthwise in a simple band interrupted only by a likewise simple iron sword charm, is dropped into the bag far more gently if not just as smoothly.

Slab thinks she'll like it, but he can't really say.

He's admittedly not very much help there, which is a shame given that he worked with Em for a considerably long amount of time, but there's not much he can do about that, also given that he was the one who killed her again after she was 'demoted' from gladiator to competitor and that even their working together was mostly just through jointly murdering people and trying to beat each other to the kill.

Both are considerably good reasons for why they aren't particularly close even now, but Jesse knows her people and he trusts her judgement enough to know that, like everything else Jesse's buying, the gift will be loved and appreciated.

Jesse's one of those people who makes impacts like that, giving gifts to people who don't expect it and aren't used to it, without thinking anything of it or expecting anything in return.

They never could do stuff like that, back in the Games.

Well, that's wrong.

They could have, they always could have, but nobody thought that way about things when they were constantly pitted against each other.

"A-hah! I _thought_ he was going behind my back." Jesse turns from the stall, closing the notebook and likewise letting it slip inside the bag as she looks up at Slab, one of her bangs curling into her eyes. "You ready to go?"

"Sure seems it."

"Really? I could've sworn you forgot to get something for somebody." Jesse's eyes gets almost mockingly wide, her look nearly entirely innocent, save for the growing grin that's somehow one part teeth and one part pure happiness.

She's ridiculous.

Slab snorts, rolling his eyes as he brushes away the errant bang she still hasn't touched.

"How do you know you're not getting anything?"

"Wishful thinking?" The grin gets wider, even as Jesse shrugs.

"You're not as hard to distract as you think you are." Slab turns away from her, walking away from the stall and back into the shuffling throng of shoppers without waiting for her to begin moving with him.

There's no need to slow down, not with how deceptively fast she can be.

"So you _did_ get something. What is it?" Jesse's at his heels, and the considerable height difference doesn't keep her from being able to wind through the crowd just as well as he does. "Come on, you can tell me."

"You'll just have to wait."

"Oh, that's evil." The smile's replaced by a pout that he has to keep himself from grinning too widely at, choosing to roll his eyes again as he huffs.

"Yeah right. I didn't exactly see a diamond sword either."

Instead of making it any nicer for her, it just seems to get her pout to grow wider.

"That's different. You at least know what you're getting."

"Then it sounds like you goofed up to me." Jesse makes a noise that's best described as an offended squeak, conveying about as much as a dramatic gasp would and getting him to grin widely again as he chuckles. "You'll have to be more careful, squishy."


	13. Christmas Lights

What should be a mediocre day for Olivia feels far worse than it maybe has any right to.

She's stuck setting up and troubleshooting lights with Maya, in part due to their shared interest in redstone and in part due to Aiden already working with both Lukas and Jesse in the temple and Gill helping Axel set up non-redstone related outdoor decor.

On one hand, she knows she got lucky. Seeing as how leaving for Redstonia again isn't really an option while she's helping Jesse set up decorations around Beacontown, this at least gets her out of the temple and probably as far away from the other pair-ups and the likely resulting sparks as possible.

On the other, that means she's stuck with Maya.

Somebody who tormented her for years, mocked her, tried to help Aiden kill two of her best friends and an entire city, and was inadvertently responsible for Petra, Lukas, Jesse, and Ivor being stuck in the portal network and going through every horrible thing they went through.

And someone who's just as frustrated as her about their progress.

Progress that has come to a screeching halt thanks to not being able to figure out which lamp in the rather long circuit is the dead one keeping the rest from turning on.

The thing is, sea lanterns gets the job done as lighting, but they aren't particularly festive unless covered in colored glass, and even then there's no real way to turn them off, and while colored torches are more festive and don't require the added work, there's a bit of a fire hazard present and they still can't just be turned off with the flick of a switch.

And sometimes, some people really want their lamps to just turn on when they should, and Olivia is one of those people.

Lanterns can shut off, only need to be connected to some sort of power source, and can be made in intricate or simple colored designs that are inherently festive. They also require a working circuit when used in strings, and one dead or faulty lamp tends to kill at least half the string.

Right now, they're halfway through testing the dead lanterns, thick bundled clothing not managing to keep all the cold out, and the part of the string that's still working is almost mockingly bright, illuminating their visible puffs of breathing.

"Couldn't you have invented a set of these that _doesn't_ break down like this?"

And Olivia, cross-legged and sitting in snow in the middle of a thankfully nearly abandoned plaza, feels her shoulders tense and her jaw clench even before she realizes her fingers have gone still.

"Maybe, but I've been busy trying to invent things that are more useful. And, you know, run a city." Olivia bites back the bubbling comment about how she actually has a job, if only because she's not as confident as she'd like to be that she didn't get her position in Redstonia almost sheerly out of Jesse-related pity. Whether she likes Maya or not, it's not fair to downplay the job she's earned fair and square, even if it hardly pays. "What about you? Couldn't you?"

Passive-aggressive? A little. Entirely earned? Absolutely.

Olivia knows far too well how much Maya knows about being passive-aggressive.

"Yeah, well, they don't really like letting prisoners tinker too much back in Sky City." Maya rolls her eyes, resting her elbows on top of the simple light blue lantern in her lap as she stops inspecting the glittering wires. "Giving me redstone and switches for the heck of it didn't seem like such a good idea for some reason, especially not for lights they didn't want or need. Probably because they could barely find any redstone until they brought us in the mines. And here... you're not the only one with work to do."

There is something, partly comforting and partly unsettling, in re-acknowledging that Maya has a fairly healthy interest in redstone too.

It's humanizing, to a point, that she has more interests than just looking out for herself or beating others down, and it reminds Olivia that they're both cold and tired and neither of them really want to do this together.

She hums lightly, twisting the red lantern, adorned with multiple jagged lines and abrupt curves in the designs on each pane of glass, back into place.

"Fair enough."

She holds out her hand, smiling for a moment when Maya hands her the blue lamp, Maya herself busy letting her gaze drift from frustratingly dead lantern to infuriatingly bright one.

And then Olivia twists that one into place and that's when the monotony breaks.

They give what can be described as more wordless noises of excitement, both of them high-fiving as the rest of the lamps quickly turn on in rapid succession.

 _Finally_.

Olivia can't even really blame Maya when she leans back, laying on her back in the snow as she lets out a sigh that's half a groan.

"Please tell me we're done."

The snow on her knees clings to her pants even as Olivia does her best to brush them off, giving up on her white dotted clothes in favor of taking in the overtly relieving sight of their work paying off, hanging this part of the string back up between the regular lampposts.

About time too.

"Well, we are here. Whether or not we have more stuff to do depends on whether or not they've burned down the temple by now." She smiles as she glances at Maya, who, despite being halfway through straightening up, collapses back into the snow with another groan.

It's a bit too understandable.

"Oh great." Maya links her hands behind her head, almost settling into her coat as she looks to Olivia, an eyebrow raised. She hardly seems bothered as an errant snowflake lazily lands on her nose, said snowflake getting caught in the wool of her finger-less glove as she brushes it away. "How do you feel about sweeping up the ashes?"

It's weird, to be in agreement with her, but Olivia can't find fault in the assumption when she hardly expects any of the others to be in one piece.

"Still better than having to deal with these again."

Olivia holds a hand out, smiling despite herself as Maya accepts the offered hand, gently tugging her to her feet as they turn away from their frustrating but finished work.

"Amen."


	14. Lukas

In a word, winter sucks.

It does for hybrids at least, or it tends to, even if that doesn't have as much to do with the time of year as it does all the other stigmas attached to being a hybrid in the first place.

With how lasting those stigmas are and how much they played into everything until recently, though, separating these kinds of things is hard, and Lukas's own personal experiences just fog it all up even more.

He's never met a hybrid that doesn't have a love-hate relationship with the season, especially thanks to the way they get treated by normal people during it. Maybe part of that comes down to how few hybrids he's really ever known, seeing as how Jesse's somehow managed to warp it into a love-love sort of thing that they all could probably use anyway, hybrids or otherwise.

And to be fair, he can't act like he's not happy with her method. It seems simple and to the point: indulge within reason, maybe go overboard, but overall take a break.

(Even if, to no one's surprise, Jesse needs a little help taking it easy herself.)

It just also happens to be the first winter where he's not hiding his status as a hybrid and by extension not trying to hide or stifle the effects of winter at the cost of making him miserable.

Reptiles don't do well in the cold, most avians get super cuddly and don't like going out even more than reptiles do, amphibians are just like mammals, and evens the insect ones tend to try to go as dormant as they can while functioning as people.

And what do mammals, amphibians, and certain insect hybrids do?

Hibernate.

At least, their bodies definitely try, regardless of what plans the people in those bodies have, in the sense that appetites get cranked up to ten and more sleep is vital, if said hybrids don't just end up trying to sleep and eat the entire winter away.

Which, also unsurprisingly, makes hiding being a hybrid really hard.

Especially because the Ocelots were super good at freaking themselves out about their bodies, so half the time, Lukas probably didn't eat near enough normally.

So this winter, now that they're back from the portal network and have no plans of going anywhere special for at least a few months until the trauma wears off, Lukas gets to stop worrying about staying alive and start worrying about how in the world he's supposed to get used to not hiding everything remotely non-human about him when he can't just brush it off as desperately trying to survive every waking moment.

That means getting used to just relaxing, knowing everyone's okay, and getting used to not clipping or yanking out his whiskers now that he's back in civilization, while getting used to living at the Order Hall, and used to not hiding his ears or his tail or having to stuff either in uncomfortable or baggy clothing to hide them.

It means being able to purr, because that's a thing he does, a thing he's had to actively cut off and stifle for years now, not having to hide a definite preference for fish, or that he's been feeling really cuddly lately.

Everybody else in the Order's really been feeling the last one too, but still. He gets to be him. All of him. Not just the human part, not just for a day, or a week, or a month, or even a season.

It's off in the worst and best of ways, somehow at the same time, but it's not wrong. Weird, maybe.

But it's always better if he stops himself from labeling these things as bad, especially when part of what makes it weird is how he doesn't feel so miserable this year.

So it's not accurate to say that winter itself sucks.

It's fine.

Hibernating is fine, odd instincts are fine, it's all fine.

All the same, getting out of a cozy bed mid-cuddle during winter sucks.

It means stopping halfway through nuzzling Jesse, who's undoubtedly awake as soon as whoever's at the door knocks once because her sleep schedule also sucks and she's a far too light sleeper with all the nightmares she tends to get, blearily dragging himself out from under the covers and tangled sheets and to his feet, and shuffling in his socks across the carpet in the far colder room air to the door.

Part of Lukas wants to be grumpy about it, but he's too tired and sleepy to muster much more than yawns and a whole lot of blinking, and whatever grumbled complaint he has ready never comes out once he sees Ivor, and any leftover complaints similarly dissolve once he stops blinking up at him and notices the hot chocolate and the muted inky potion in Ivor's hands.

Oh thank Notch.

The hot chocolate is sweet and warm and perfect on an icy blinding white day like today, but the sleeping potion is even better, both for him and Jesse.

One of Lukas's ears twitches, swiveling more to face Ivor, and it takes a moment or two to realize Ivor just said something that involved not being able to find Jesse and knowing Lukas would know where she is, but Lukas didn't really hear the whole thing and he's far too unaware to give the darn required to blush or get embarrassed at the gentle nudge.

Still, hybrid or not, busy accepting himself and embracing sleep and cuddling with Jesse or not, he has manners.

So that's why Lukas at least attempts a thank you, even if he's pretty sure it comes across as more of a general mumble that might end up sounding more like he's offering Ivor a place to shove his (accurate) assumptions, but that just gets a bigger kick out of Ivor, who grins as he hands over both drinks and closes the door for Lukas before Lukas can realize that that's a good next step too.

Still, Lukas is smiling when he sets both the vial and mug down on his bedside table, and he can already feel the steady rumble coming from his throat as he settles back in the nets of blankets and tangles himself back up with Jesse.


	15. Movies

Jesse has a mixed relationship when it comes to theater.

Most of the time, she's as interested in musicals and plays as Lukas is, but there are some topics she's less able to stomach.

And despite pushing it off for months and months and years, really, at this point, one of said topics is being played in Beacontown to much acclaim. Which is great! Her personal tastes shouldn't affect how others enjoy things. The problem is that the Order did happen to show up to tonight's showing, at the new amphitheater, to said play because it happens to focus on them.

That's what makes it hard to stomach, but she knows each and every person involved means well. Accuracy isn't even so much of a problem, because the Order always tries to be available to people and aren't near as 'mysterious' as their predecessors.

It's not as if Jesse hasn't learned how to grin and bear through things for the public before.

Not everything about fighting the Witherstorm is as spot on as it could be, which is fine, and the characterizations are off, which is fine, because it's just a play and this is just the first act.

Jesse makes it right about until what might best be called the glorification of Reuben's death.

Is it horribly butchered? No.

It's just too tacky and too polished in a way that feels deeply wrong, and while Jesse knows they don't mean any harm, her tolerance is just about shot after that.

That's why she ends up sitting outside on a bench, the cold of the stone seeping through her clothes and beginning to numb her legs. She’s waiting for the others as she lets her fingers drum against the arm rest and tries to focus on the dull sound it makes instead of how abandoned the outdoors are at such a late hour, even with the popularity of the play.

Is it that much warmer in an amphitheater? Maybe not, but it does have a play going on that the few trees and bushes nearby certainly aren't trying to match, even if both areas are equally well lit.

"Not watching the play?" Jesse lifts her head, smiling as Ivor sits down next to her.

"It's not really my thing. I like it better when they do the more classic stories. Or original stories, or anything about the holidays, or anything but us." Jesse chuckles weakly, smile more of a grimace as she rubs the back of her neck, looking over her shoulder and back at the crowded amphitheater. "I didn't realize they were that popular. Why aren't you watching it?"

"Jesse, I've seen this version adapted for several other worlds multiple times by now. As interested as I am in the localization differences, given who they expected as their audience, it's hardly a priority. Besides, Harper will let me know if anything interesting happens." Ivor grins, handing Jesse a fuzzy woolen cap she's quick to put on. The action doesn't seem to do much beyond make his smile wider, even as he raises an eyebrow. "Still, with how far Lukas has spread word of your adventures, I'm surprised you haven't heard of one of these sooner."

"I've heard of them, I guess. I just don't usually go to those kinds of plays here in Beacontown; it feels too much like we're blowing things up to be more than they were and encouraging all of that, you know? Or like we're not just people, at least."

It seems pretty dumb to Jesse. It's an honor, to have a play, never mind so many plays, focusing on her and her friends.

"I can understand that." Ivor relaxes into both his coat and the bench, crossing his arms over his middle as his smile turns wiry. "I think my first winter away from the Order after our 'disagreement' was spent in a city that turned out to be one of the first to create and hold plays based off of our 'amazing' adventures."

It's not a tone she's heard from him in a while, not quite bitter so much as oddly absent and reminiscent, bittersweet in a way she can barely blame him for.

So she chuckles back, giving an exaggerated wince as she grins.

"Ouch. I pity the city."                 

Ivor doesn't look back at her, smile easing again as he watches the few sparse snowflakes swirl through the air as they descend.

"...it wasn't what I found to be the most pleasant holiday surprise."

"Did you go?"

It's Jesse's turn to raise an eyebrow as Ivor nods.

"I did. Twice, at least."

"Wow, really?"

It doesn't really seem like Ivor, or what she knows of how he was back when the sting of being betrayed was sharp and he was desperate for revenge.

"It's amazing how people tend to be pushed aside for the sake of legends. I didn't leave on good terms, but it was almost insulting, how bastardized some of my best friends had been by total strangers for the sake of a 'more pleasing narrative'. Not that my critique would've meant anything to the people hosting the plays; I doubt it would've meant anything to any of the Order either."

What's there to say to that? It makes sense.

"Huh."

"Fame is fame." Ivor tugs at one of his gloves, tilting his head to the side as he keeps his tone steady. "It allows the public to know of you without really knowing you, though Lukas's books _do_ seem to help promote some degree of accuracy."

"Yeah." The wind picks up as Jesse looks over her shoulder again. "Do you think the others are having some fun?"

"Olivia's nearly bitten through her lip, Axel's either very focused or sleeping with his eyes open, Petra's torn between combusting before the play can end and dying of laughter once we return home, and if Lukas _doesn't_ offer them some 'friendly editing', I'll be surprised. It's admittedly not one of the better plays, but Harper has a soft spot for it."

Jesse's not quite able to keep the smile off her face, and so she doesn't try.

"Think we should save them?"

She's not surprised either when Ivor snorts and rests his hands behind his head.

"Let them sit. They can take care of themselves, and it's not as if they're being forced to stay. They full well know the way out."


	16. Pets (Jesse/Lukas)

There's absolutely no reason for Lukas to care at all about power. He doesn't; maybe he has a history of being a leader, but being a follower works for him too, maybe better, and, more related to the issue at hand, he's also not the kind of person to try and find comfort in whatever power he does have over others, like his pet.

But he's pretty sure he's supposed to have more of an equal give and take relationship with Dewey than he does, the paws that gingerly start walking on his chest stopping on his middle as Dewey curls up without any hesitation.

Is it supposed to be a good thing that he's so easy to walk all over?

Dewey's already purring before Lukas starts rubbing behind his ears, one of Lukas's fingers trailing under his soft chin as his throat quietly rumbles. There's the chance this is a thank you of some sort for the special fish Jesse and Lukas got him for a holiday gift, but he might just be cold and recognize a good heater when he sees and steps on one.

"You are the most spoiled cat in existence." Lukas sighs as he smiles, feeling utterly defeated by the furry lump on his stomach. "You know that, right?"

And Dewey, looking up at him with a slightly tilted head and wide eyes, may very well know, but there's not so much as an ear twitch as the steady purr goes on interrupted to suggest he has any sort of problem with that. But that's fair.

It's not exactly a bad thing, to be spoiled, and it helps that Dewey's likely never had a bad day in his life.

Lukas supposes he probably wouldn't have much of an issue with that either, and he's lucky and spoiled enough that he's not one to really point any fingers.

Even if he is the one who makes sure Dewey always has plenty of his favorite fish and ends up serving as his pillow most of the time. Not everyone's lucky to have a cat, never mind a cat that's willing to cuddle with him like this when Dewey's not being overtly aloof.

Despite said cat keeping him from really being able to sit up when Jesse pokes her head through the doorway, fingers wrapped around what seems to be an empty but likely still warm mug as she smiles at him.

It's hard not to smile back, so he doesn't bother fighting it.

"What's up?"

Jesse, clad in nothing more than what he knows are her favorite pajama pants and one of his more worn shirts, closes the door behind her before she slowly makes her way over to the bed. She smiles as she sets the mug down beside the dream journal on the small bedside table, shrugging as she sits down on the side of the bed, right by his legs.

"Just checking in on you. How about you?"

Lukas returns the shrug, not pausing in petting Dewey even as Lukas gestures to him with his other hand.

"Not much. Just dealing with the world's most spoiled fluff ball."

Jesse grins, a small sliver of teeth showing as she shifts, wriggling her way under the covers while somehow not disturbing Dewey as she lies down and shifts closer to Lukas, propped up only by an elbow. Her voice is soft and warm and, evidently tired or not from the slump of her shoulders to her half-lidded eyes, she seems happy and it's such a relief.

"Does that make me the most spoiled person?"

It's the sort of question that could be asked a lot of ways, more loaded maybe than an average one, but it's practically hummed as Jesse stays settled in bed, grin melting into a wider, more relaxed smile.

So much for just checking up on him.

Lukas, unsurprisingly, doesn't find himself all that disappointed by the apparent change in plans.

"Maybe." Lukas shifts, kissing Jesse's hair and trying to ignoring the indignant meow and nudge from Dewey as he pauses in his petting for a moment. "You both deserve it. And if he gets to be this spoiled, you definitely do."

After all, a cabin in the woods is an awesome place to live.

Especially when he built it nice and warm, and doesn't have to worry about shoddy building or poorly managed repairs letting in the nippy cold or howling winds.

Besides, it's one of the first nights in a long while that Lukas and Jesse have just been able to sit and talk the way they have, about whatever they want and everything mundane instead of battle plans or city plans, never mind share cookies and hot chocolate in a way they really should do more often but don't ever seem to enough.

If Lukas gets this? Jesse absolutely deserves it, after everything she's stopped and saved and helped.

"Guess I oughta be really grateful for Dewey, then."

Jesse's giggle is small but unrestrained, gentle as she rests her head on his shoulder.

"Careful, or it'll all go to his head."

Like one compliment could really change that much for a pampered pet.

Jesse giggles again, but doesn't answer directly, just smiling up at him as she wraps an arm around his chest, kissing his cheek and then kissing him several times more, her lips tracing his freckles. He's pretty sure his face is burning in the best way as he grins at her while she closes her eyes and lays her head back down.

"Goodnight, Lukas."

It's nice. Yeah, maybe he's spoiled, but he definitely does the same for Dewey, and he'll always do his best to try and return to favor for Jesse.

Lukas presses a kiss to the top of Jesse's head, letting his eyes fall shut as she douses the light and Lukas continues to pet Dewey, even as said smug feline lowers his head to rest it against the covers and, by extension, Lukas.

"Goodnight, Jesse."

He can't think of any other way he'd rather have it.


	17. Stella

A lot about Stella is, to put it simply, bitter.

(Just because she publicly denies and avoids it doesn't make it any less true.)

So by all rights she should be happy when the weather decides to match. And she's not all that unhappy, really.

Except that's she's cold and miserable and hates wind more than she's maybe ever hated anything in her life before, which is quite the feat seeing as how Stella is in fact, as previously stated, insanely bitter.

It's not hard for her to have an agenda, however, and today's has been to stay inside, with it being impossible to just up and eradicate the weather altogether.

(She's tried. It doesn't work.)

Most of the day is thus spent inside, slinking from warm bed to toasty bath to sitting in front of her ornate and scorching fireplace while in said warm bed, and the cold somehow still manages to get to her. It's not as if she's concerned for her people, who she knows have apartments and homes that, uniform or not, will definitely keep them sheltered from this kind of cold, or Lluna, who's been loyally at her side for most of the day.

And that's not Stella deluding herself (for once), because Lluna hates this kind of weather nearly as much as she does.

The wind can be a big enough bother as it is, and it's certainly being as big of one as it can manage today, but weather that borders on sleet combined with blustering gales has a way of piercing through even the thickest and neatest of wool coats.

Not that Stella would dream of leaving poor Lluna in some outdoor stable, but that keeps walking outdoors from being an option and doesn't stop her indoor one from getting cold, seeing as how it doesn't quite have the same heat source as most rooms do for the sake of safety.

(Stella's come too far for it all to come down in flames, especially when it comes to her beloved companion and said companion's extremely dry stash of hay.)

Not that the heaters are doing much good to take care of the empty space, because while it's warm, Stella happens to have an insanely large home. It's her pride, her joy, a symbol of her power and how much her people actually do adore her, and so on and so forth, but that doesn't mean very well when it's all ornate and extravagant, seemingly made for more people than there are. Even one would be a tremendous help.

Right now, though, it's all too cold and empty and _big_ , and there's only her and Lluna here and beyond the bodyguards patrolling outside at night, she's afraid that's all there'll ever be.

Hah. 'All'.

Here she is, in silk pajamas on a mattress larger than it has any real need to be and silk sheets softer than most things can be, lying in front of a decorative but effective fireplace. And still... if it weren't for Lluna lying beside her, she wonders how cold she'd still get.

It's funny, how empty a place full of junk can seem on a freezing day.

That's another reason Stella hates this kind of weather.

For all the special items she hoards or 'collects', even the ones with sentimental value attached to them by other people seem worthless. They're used, both the items and the people, and the items could easily be replaced. Stella's brought that up to the angrier people, brought it up to herself if she begins to doubt herself, not that that happens regularly or anything, and most of the time with people like that, she's left with trinkets that don't really mean anything anymore because the owner realized that they were replaceable.

And it's not like she stops people from leaving. If they want out, they can leave any time they want.

And so what if she takes something at first as a little incentive?

She always gives them more afterwards, as extra incentive to stay and to prove that she is a good ruler, that she can be a good leader and that her city is one they want to be in.

Stella sighs, choosing to look away from the positively drab grey world visible outside her window and to focus back on the fireplace, the yellows and oranges of the fire itself reflected off the golden trim and swirling iron decorations that sprawl on the quartz wall outwards from the brick of the fireplace. She reaches out to pet Lluna, not looking at her, and while Lluna, on the bed and lying on her legs, doesn't lean into her touch, she doesn't choose to pull away either.

She'll take whatever success she can get.

Who's she to complain, leader of Champion City, ruler, by extension, of champions? It's no title to scoff at and she's better at being alone than most people would be; she has no reason to be lonely.

(The icy feeling somewhere in her core flares at that, licking at her like the fire does at the bricks and kindle. She's never needed a reason to be weak, but here they are. Why else would she be bitter, if she wasn't _broken_ , if she wasn't so much lesser inherently? Why else would she need to compensate with bribery and thievery, trying to fool even herself with worthless items and wealth wasted?

She doesn't deserve this, she couldn't make even a fraction of this if her life depended on it, but it's so much easier to take and take and take instead of facing the truth or letting other people see it.)

Stella huffs, keeping the hand petting Lluna from curling into her wool too tightly, her other hand instead digging into the bed. It's only when she looks down that she notices her nails, filed into neat points and painted red only an hour ago, are nearly stabbing the mattress.

Yet another reason to hate the weather: it always gets her started on unwanted internal rumination.


	18. Fireplace

A fireplace tells nearly as much about the people who use it as any other part of a house says about its owners.

The number of fires helps too, of course, but it means about as much as what the fireplace looks like.

How it's used is the telling part.

* * *

 

For instance, there's a fireplace in a city. It may be more accurate to call it a town, but the people have their pride even if for a while there wasn't much else to have.

Still, the city is rebuilding, in a world new and unknown despite it being all theirs, despite it having always been, and the fireplace sees much use in the beginning that's solely practical. Meant to warm leaders, used to warm people when the weather turns bitter and not all homes yet have true heaters or furnaces, it is used for boiling water to make it safe to drink, to boil the beginning of experimental potions, to cook food in a way only one leader has a hang of at first.

And as time passes, as the people handle themselves more and more, it is used in a more conventional sense, to simply warm the cold and keep the leaders and the guard that protects them from freezing, as well as to provide an interesting temptation of a spot to hurl paperwork.

It is hot and burns wood and is inherently practical in all the ways it still seems wasteful, still seems a precious luxury to people so used to conserving all resources, all kindling and lumber and brick.

* * *

 

In a more simple sense, there's a fireplace in a shop in a bustling city, a city that from sheer size alone certainly deserves to be called more than the town name it is branded with.

The shop itself seems to have no problem assuming the atmosphere of a store from a town, however, laid back in a way that's comforting and perhaps even undeserved. This fireplace is in the back of the store, in a bedroom shared by the owners, away from prying eyes and saved most to fight against when the nightmares are too much and the sting of battle and death feel too fresh and too real.

(Surfboards tend to be unfortunately flammable and decorations as well as festive trees burn too easily for either to be entirely comfortable leaving it in the open, and a few well-placed furnaces do a good enough job keeping customers warm.)

* * *

 

There's a fireplace out in the open in another shop in the same city, useful both for dramatic and cozy lighting as well as keeping the people within warm.

The latter may be less needed, given that one of said shopkeepers doubles easily as a blacksmith with a private forge that manages to warm and heat the entire place just fine, but there are still snowy days where it's useful and nights when memories of failure and could-have-beens get to be too bad that it serves at least as a distraction to stare at until sleep becomes tolerable once more. It makes the cold, icy feeling of an aching heart that much easier to forget and numb.

Besides, both tend to have their flairs for the dramatic and moody, even if for one it's more about general frustration towards the regular crowd of uninvited parrots inside than it is about being mysterious and brooding.

* * *

 

In a city/town/ongoing disaster, a weathered king of madness and mayhem has a fireplace that is both practical, given that deserts get just as cold at night as they do hot in the day, and absolutely necessary, given said king's hardly hidden pyromania.

(Quite frankly, it's debatable, and has actually been debated before and likely will again, whether or not the entire town isn't some sort of fireplace. It sits nice and snug in a broiling desert and filled with so much mayhem and explosions, as well as plenty of actual fires, that over the course of a day ebb and flow as regularly as flames do in a lively hearth.)

It's not the same as the one he once had in a tower made of obsidian and stubbornness, that one sucked up and utterly destroyed, this fireplace sitting in a mess of a home that manages to blend in just right with all the other demolished buildings and structures.

It's something of a miracle this fireplace is even standing, really, but it's nice to come home to and relax by after battling with people as crazy as he is. That sometimes he even has a friend there, an equally weathered if not far more levelheaded friend more skilled in sword that demolition resting beside the fireplace and waiting for him to return, is a bonus he won't admit to anyone.

* * *

 

There is no fireplace in a tree house, sitting lone and forgotten in the middle of the woods.

It's impractical, as well as dumb and dangerous in a hundred ways with how small said tree house is, and it's not like anyone cares in an icy deserted home.

And it's not like it matters _because_ the tree house is cold, empty and abandoned. No one's been inside it for years, not for longer than minutes and not long enough to sweep even the major cobwebs away from the vacant bed and rotting shelves. After the initial taking of items, several still remain, including a fraying poster too faded to read and several pictures of a pig shoved in a decaying box under the broken bed frame.

* * *

 

In contrast, there most certainly is a fireplace in a much larger, much fuller home, a headquarters of sorts, and that fireplace gets more use than maybe any fireplace has a right to.

For the record, there are many fireplaces in such a home, but the one used the most sits in a big, cozy living room, surrounded by couches and blankets and bookshelves. It also happens to be used nearly every way to Sunday, and that's on a slow day.

On one particular occasion, it's used to warm up stupid but happy adventurers as they stumble in from the cold, laughing and joking and teasing in the way only friends do, to roast the marshmallows someone with a sweet tooth gets the bright idea to use, is almost used to dispose of an unwanted draft that's barely saved, and is then used to lull several reassured, full, and happy friends off to much needed slumber.


	19. Jesse

It's never a good sign, when Jesse wakes up with little to no memory of what happened before she fell asleep.

A worse sign is perhaps the pure fogginess of her head, how it's anything but pure and how heavy it feels, in a stuffy way that makes it feel like it may as well be filled with cotton.

But the worst sign is her sniffle. It does nothing to soothe what she's realizing is an extremely congested nose, rivaled only by how difficult it is to open her aching eyes and focus her stubbornly blurry vision.

She hates being sick.

The thing is, it's not even that she's sick that's the worst part, given that she's suspected for a while that the latest adventure, spent wading through swamps searching and finding rare items, as well as the incredibly poor sleep she's been getting since had combined at some point to lead to some kind of unwanted illness.

The worst part is that her finally sharpening sight allows her to focus on how there's somebody by her bed.

Actually, there are several people surrounding her bed, and it takes little more than a few moments to know she's well and truly doomed. She's always up for sleepovers, but she gets a feeling the rest of the Order aren't here for that.

Ivor's sitting on a chair someone pulled up to be beside her bed, looking down at her over some open novel or other that looks to be about mushrooms as she stirs, and though he's quick to gently push her back into her pillows and covers when she tries to sit up more, she's pretty sure Lukas's sitting by the bed, his back resting against the frame and his hair just barely visible.

Of course, both Ivor's movement and her own garner the attention of both him and everyone else.

So it's now that her brain chooses to let her know that Petra's the intimidating figure leaning against the door and just now pausing in her whittling, Olivia's taken to observing some blueprint or other on what had been Jesse's barren desk, and Axel's on the floor and sitting by Petra's feet with his legs crossed, his head lolling to the side and held up only by the wall.

It should be peaceful, and it is in a way that makes her heart swell and ache in the best way, but now she's up, which apparently must mean now they have to be up too.

They stay frozen like that for a moment that might go on for hours before jumping to life, quickly crowding the bed with various questions that sound  warm but are just too much to make out and too unexpected to really understand as anything other than them being happy to see her.

It all manages to look and sound far more threatening than a wave of monsters in her room would.

She's in trouble.

Jesse sinks back into the bed, which is what Ivor wanted anyways, and finds her smile shifting into a pout as she sniffles again, glaring up at him as she does.

"You drugged me." Is what she means to say. Her nose feels so stuffed up and her poor throat aches at the simplest of sounds that it probably comes across as ''ou drudged meh', but her head aches too much to be sure, one of her temples trying and failing, but trying nonetheless, to stab the rest of her body.

"It's amazing how much like tea a sleeping potion can taste when the person taking it is already delusional and near delirious." Ivor's voice keeps it from being a grouse, his lips twitching up even as he raises an eyebrow, look almost entirely flat as he uncorks a vial and presses it into her shaking hands. It's an unfortunate sign, and perhaps part of the point Ivor's trying to make, that she can barely hold onto it long enough to down the vial. "And now that you're up, drink this."

Her tongue, feeling swollen and heavy in her mouth, can't taste anything, but the potion isn't seemingly concealed or covered by anything else, a glowing pink that she can at least tell is warm.

Part of her wants to argue against the healing potion, how they need to save that for battle or serious emergencies or when one of the others get sick, and oh no they've been around her long enough and they were in the bogs with her what if they get this sick soon and feel miserable too, but she thinks they might all murder her if she does.

Besides, with Ivor being a master alchemist and all whose stock is regularly filled and replaced by their healthy sized budget and a market eager to please, the idea of limited stock really doesn't hold up well.

So she mumbles a quiet, sheepish thank you that sounds rougher than it should as Ivor takes the bottle back.

"You were getting pretty bad, Jesse." And Jesse's expression, if possible, might just turn more sheepish as she looks back at her other friends, Axel covering a yawn from where he stands at the foot of her bed. She also wants to argue against that, but even she knows the circles under her eyes were getting dark enough to look like ink and how that probably wasn't such a good sign at all in hindsight either.

"We're just happy you're okay." Lukas smiles down at her as he puts another blanket, looking like one of his and likely what he was using while waiting for her to wake up, on her substantial but cozy pile.

After scaring them like she's sure she did, death by blanket burial does sound pretty fair.

"Now you just have to recover." Olivia's already got the blueprint rolled up and tucked under her arm, and Jesse's insistence that she can keep using her desk and that Jesse doesn't mind at all does unspoken, choked by a throat that feels like it's full of thorns. The words remain unspoken as her body settles more, relaxing again against her will and her eyes sliding shut as Petra chuckles and ruffles her hair.

"Yeah, get some sleep, you dork. We’ll be right here when you wake up."


	20. Food

Jesse might not be any good at crowds. She's never minded being part of one, as long as Olivia's known her, never minded just being around so many people. But being the center of attention to a crowd?

It's not her thing, no matter how hard she tries not to tremble and just grin and bear it.

(And Jesse, well, Jesse tries to grin though and bear way too much as it is for any of her friends' comforts, but that's more of an overarching self-sacrificing self-damaging issue that Jesse unfortunately has.)

Despite that, though, holiday nonsense and fun for friends tend to fall more into her strong suits, even if she has enough friends to constitute a crowd.

Jesse takes it all in stride and adapts, because that's what she does, especially for the people she cares about.

Case in point: the various tables in the dining room have disappeared under piles of food, from casseroles to salads to bread to cooked meats to vegetable trays to more potato dishes than can be counted, and not a single table yet has any of the desserts Olivia knows she helped Jesse make or saw made.

(They have hired chefs and the scary part is none of them had anything to do with this; they had the day off while Jesse's been cooking and cooking for hours and this is beyond terrifying.)

She raises an eyebrow as she turns to Jesse, crossing her arms and hoping she doesn't look as awed as she feels.

"How many people are we expecting?"

And Jesse, two platters in hand as she weaves through the tables before somehow finding an empty spot to put the soups, beams at her.

Olivia thinks this is a good kind of awe, but maybe it's just a little bit of sheer terror too.

"Everybody who said they would come is already here, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to be on the safe side! Apparently people have been having trouble getting mail to us lately, and you know what it's like to get anything through the portal network."

Which is understandable, and it might be a miracle that they've succeeded in keeping all guests, especially the more mischievous or curious ones, out of this room until Jesse finally decides when enough's enough, but Olivia can't almost imagine any more people showing up than those that already have.

It is likewise amazing that the holiday decorations are still hanging up everywhere, all other rooms looking to be in as good condition as this one.

...with as much mistletoe that Olivia somehow missed because Axel is evil, but she can deal with all of that later, she decides as she tears her gaze from the abundance of hung up sprigs and tinsel to smile back at Jesse.

"Well, if you give them all stomach aches, I don't see how _they're_ supposed to get back through either." Jesse knows how to make people feel welcome, at least.

"Hah, yeah right." Jesse puts her hands on her hips, surveying the ~~damage~~ spoils of her work around her before nodding once, glancing back at Olivia with a wider grin as she exits the room as quickly as she came. "If anybody asks, dinner should be officially ready in a couple of minutes."

Officially?

That means Jesse's still working on moving more food in here, though Notch knows where it's going to go.

And Olivia's been known to go on her own extravagant and extensive baking sprees when she's stressed out, which is part of why she helped Jesse make the desserts in the first place, the other reason being to try and keep Jesse from working herself to death before the guests even arrived. She's not throwing any stones, and she gets the appeal behind making their friends happy, especially since they all have some kind of sweet tooth and could really use the food, even if it's not always the healthiest.

(It's hard to make brownies healthy in a way that doesn't make them utterly disgusting and inedible, which is okay because nobody in their right mind goes looking for healthy brownies. Much like now, if anyone doesn't want any, they just say no.

The kicker is having the willpower to say it and move on.)

Jesse just likes taking that to a bigger scale.

In this case, a much bigger scale.

Olivia doesn't care who does or doesn't end up showing up, there's no way they're walking away from this without a mountain of leftovers. How long those themselves will last is definitely in question already, though, and Olivia can't make any comfortable predictions beyond not long.

But Jesse's good at taking care of food like that. And it's not like she's just spoiling her friends and whoever she invited to show up to this; all week there have been banquets and feasts of all kinds for the people of Beacontown and whoever happened to walk in. Jesse's a lot of things, but she's hardly greedy, even when it comes to making the rest of them happy.

They're all lucky she focuses so much of her effort into making other people happy instead of something actually devious, or they'd all be doomed.

With that lovely thought, and the impending doom of a feast to rival all other feasts, Olivia exits the room, and barely avoids an arrow shot by who she thinks is Milo. It's hard to tell with the noise, lights, and fact that whoever it was is no longer standing there as soon as it becomes clear Olivia's okay and that the arrow, while missing its brightly painted target on the wall, luckily just bounced off a shield they also have hanging on the wall before landing on the ground.

Olivia shakes it off, tosses the arrow in the nearest waste bin, and heads back into the thick of things. Really, it's not a bad evening at all, near shots excluded.

Besides, at least with this much food, there's no way for Jesse to not actually get the good meal she deserves for once.

With their luck, Jesse's probably realized that and has some workaround ready, but that's alright. It's not going to work, no matter how sneaky or stubborn Jesse gets. Jesse might be able to spoil them as much as she wants, and fair enough, they all kind of need it, but she does too and they all believe in fair play.


	21. Candy Cane

There's a reason Lukas's house isn't by the outskirts of town.

Actually, it's right by Aiden's in a nice area that's not too crowded but not too wild, in the thick of the town in maybe the best way. The thing is, while Gill's is right between their places and Maya's, Maya's does happen to be much closer to the outskirts, with a good view of the least official path into town and the woods that it leads to.

It's a good view, and Maya's house is nice enough. It's a good place for them to hang out, at least, warm and happy in here and with more than enough stuff to talk and joke about.

It just looks cold, out there, in the wilderness, the road devolving into a more and more scattered gravel path that disappears eventually into the endless stretch of forest. It may be more sheltered, below ground, but it's impossible for Lukas to think of the caves and winding caverns as anything other than freezing, especially with weather like this.

How do people do it?

Even a number of the people who come into town, who well know that the town exists and is stocked and that they could live here, choose not to and it doesn't make any sense. It barely makes sense for an adventurer/mercenary/merchant/whatever-the-hell-she's-getting-paid-for-now like Petra.

Lukas lifts his head, suppressing a shudder as he turns to look at Maya, who happens to be frowning at all of them from her position on the couch.

"How come I'm the only one who knows how to eat a candy cane?" She lifts hers almost lazily and Lukas has to keep from grinning because 'oh' as he makes a point of taking another large bite out of the candy cane in his hand. He feels safe in doing so only because he's all the way over here by the window, with Gill and Aiden sitting between him and Maya.

Candy canes are tasty, but they can be unfortunately dangerous in the way some things only ever are between best friends.

Particularly Maya. Mostly Maya, if he's being honest and really thinking about it at all. Maya's always been very good at sharpening candy canes, and she's good at using them the way she wields all other pointy things.

Like she needs any more weapons.

Lukas is good at choosing placement though, and of more things than just his house. Again, there's a reason they're on two opposite ends of what's a really nice couch made even nicer by how long it is with two good friends between them. Lukas would maybe feel a bit bad about using them as meat shields if they hadn't done the same to him before and wouldn't do the same in a heartbeat, but he knows them and yes they have and yes they would.

"That's because you're evil." Gill's alternating between biting and sucking on his, but because Gill isn't as evil as Maya tends to be, and he's right because as much as they all love Maya she can and will be downright evil, he almost looks like he's trying to hollow his out instead of sharpen it.

"Coward."

Lukas chuckles, enjoying another bite of his candy cane as Maya jabs at Gill with her candy cane, stopping short anyway but getting him to shift away. It doesn't seem to matter to her that Gill sticks his tongue out, Maya herself to busy snickering as he she goes back to sucking on her weaponized peppermint stick.

It's with his final bite that he looks over his shoulder, past the fog and frost creeping up the edges of the window and out at the sea of green painted white and grey.

He can't imagine living out there, especially not alone.

He doesn't want to, really, so he doesn't try, turning his back on the icy window and windy world as he turns back towards the others.

Lukas only just dodges a pillow in doing so, already picking it up and chucking it back at a snickering Aiden. It doesn't keep him from being hit by the next pillow, thrown nearly at the same time by Maya and the following one as brutal but tossed by Gill.

There's a minute of pure laughter and pure pillow tossing before they seem to calm down and go back to eating their candy, Lukas panting as he tries to stop laughing long enough to catch his breath.

Maybe he can get it, though. Being in the middle of nowhere wouldn't be so bad if he had them.

It's important to know where home is, for him, but he doubts it's at any place, anywhere physical, even if he prefers the warm and cozy to the cold and uncomfortable.

It seems to have just a bit more to do with the people, preferences be hanged.

He's here with them and it's home, and he thinks that would be the case no matter where they went.

Even if it was out in the freezing, frosty forest.

He's also grateful they're not there, but that's not the point.

Lukas cuts himself off halfway through trying to figure out exactly what his point even is when Aiden's taps him on the shoulder, having shifted closer than Lukas realized.

"You want another one?" He probably looks at least a little lost, because that's exactly how he feels, because Aiden sighs before smiling, nudging Lukas's hand with the handle of the candy cane anyway. "You're acting kind of off."

"Sure." Lukas picks it up, takes another bite of pure sugar and peppermint that he probably shouldn't be eating but enjoys anyway, and smiles up at Aiden as he settles his back against the couch cushion, his arm resting along the back. "Thanks."

"No problem." And after a few moments, Aiden takes a bite out of his own, which is good because it's tasty and Lukas is glad Aiden's enjoying his, and also maybe bad because it makes another pillow fight look like Aiden's most likely way of fighting back and, with how close he is to Lukas, that puts them both at risk.

Oh well.

There's no place like home.

And for all of Lukas's rambling, all his too flowery and too muddled thoughts, this is home. They're home, all four of them.

And that's what matters.


	22. Christmas Tree

Winter manages to be the best and the worst time possible to go into the forest. Or any forest, really.

They're surrounded by pines of all sizes, from tiny saplings that barely poke out of the blanket of snow and ice covering the ground to the gigantic trees that just seem to stretch up and up and _up_ to the sky. Each and every one has ice covered needles, snow occasionally blown from the branches by the coming and going gusts of wind, snowflakes drifting and swirling about in the air before finding some other branch to lie on and wait to be blustered off of.

It's all terribly pretty and Magnus is terribly _bored_. And maybe just a little cold, despite the thick coat and cap he's wearing. Boredom doesn't suit any griefer well, especially when they're maybe trying to make it a point to be just a little annoying.

Motivation's important.      

"Remind me why we're getting the tree again?"

And Ivor, taller, skinnier, and nearly shaking like a leaf despite the extra number of layers he's also wearing, doesn't skip a beat.

He doesn't really stutter; he just gets grumpy, voice turning more and more into an overall grumble or growl.

He's a fun guy to mess with, and play off of, that way.

"Part of the general holiday festivities meant to keep us from murdering each other when it gets inhumanely cold and grey outside."

Ivor tends to like using roundabout language and long words that Magnus would probably have more trouble trying to spell than he'd ever like to admit, which means he fits in well with most of their friends.

But he says what everybody's thinking and Magnus won't lie; that's pretty nice.

At least, he appreciates not being the only blunt one.

"Nah, I get that." He makes a point of stretching his arms to the side until his shoulder gives a dull pop, not slowing down even as he glances about the frozen woods. "How come _we're_ getting the tree? Like, how come it's you and me?"

He's not one of those types of people who thinks they should be constantly training or anything, but this isn't one of the normal team ups. Ivor in particular has been busier lately, because he does like to push training and how important it all is. And as much as Magnus might give him crap for it, he can at least appreciate the idea that Ivor's ready to have his back when they go toe to toe with a freaking dragon.

"You and I." He might not appreciate the reminders about how bad his grammar is, though.

"Whatever."

The question hangs, the only thing not them that's not covered in sleet and slush, and it's not affected by the unnecessary correction either. Poor grammar or not (and Ivor should just give up because when _doesn't_ Magnus have poor grammar), Magnus knows it's a fair question, and he knows Ivor know it too.

"Because Ellegaard was ready to kill both of us, and I'd have probably already killed Soren if we hadn't left." There's a pause, and Magnus lets it sit because he can recognize a pretty obvious set up when he sees one and he knows better than to screw that up. Sure enough, it's not much longer before Ivor chuckles, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second or two before grinning at Magnus. "And I imagine they wanted the entire forest decimated."

Whether it's what they wanted or not, it's what they're getting.

Besides, it's not like this part of the forest is close to any villages or towns, and as far as he can tell, this patch is deserted enough that there likely aren't any animals even just passing through this spot, never mind living here.

"Okay, just checking that we're on the same page here." Magnus chuckles, pulling a bundle of unlit dynamite out of his pocket as he eyes the currently serene little patch of forest surrounding them. It's always easier to fell relaxed when he has a stick or two, or three, of TNT in his hand. "You bring any of those explosive potions you were working on?"

"Magnus, what kind of amateur do you take me for?" Magnus lets his grin get wider as Ivor pulls out a vial from his satchel, the potion inside shifting back and forth between orange and red as it swirls against the glass. It's a tiny bottle, but Magnus knows better than to judge the firepower of something based off size, especially when Ivor's involved and could probably make something even smaller that could destroy the entire world.  "Of course I did. They happen to be extremely useful for self-defense, as well as for taking out our misplaced aggression on a bunch of trees."

Magnus gets why he's seen as the destructive one, and he's worked hard for that title, but they're all really lucky Ivor's on their side.

"Awesome." Magnus already has his lighter in his other hand, but just because he's more than ready to blow one of these trees clean off its stump, or ideally all of them in the nosiest and messiest way possible, doesn't mean he has no manners. He just chooses to ignore them most the time. "You first?"

Ivor shakes his head, smiling as he crosses his arms and takes a very wise step away from Magnus and the scattered line of soon to be gone trees he's facing.

"I insist. I doubt I'd be able to do this with any of the others."

Gabe, maybe, but he's more of Magnus's general self-control and would probably try to play the same role for Ivor if given half the chance. Maybe they were hoping Ivor would play that role today, but Magnus is pretty sure their friends know them better than to realistically expect that.

"Thanks." Eventually one of the trees will probably survive in a big enough piece to drag home, but this is one part of the job Magnus won't mind taking a while with. "This is gonna be fun."


	23. Santa Hats

As a hero, there are rules, guidelines, morals and ethics and examples to be and follow.

As an adventurer, there are no rules, except adapting to survive and learning to be better at surviving however works in whatever situation.

As a friend, a confused adventuring hero who's no longer the mercenary, and at least that role had a bit more sense and a few more boundaries than anything else has, the only solid rule is to expect nothing good when multiple other friends are waiting outside the door to her room.

So Petra doesn't, but not being surprised by what's surely brewing trouble and mayhem doesn't mean she understands anything anymore than she otherwise would.

It's hardly a rule, but she keeps expecting to eventually run out of things to be confused by and it hasn't happened yet.

And there's certainly a few things confusing about it all when she finds Axel, Olivia, and Lukas standing together and wearing familiar red hats with white trim, smiling at her in a way that screams trouble. She thinks it's a good way.

She has hope, if nothing else, letting her lips twist into a sly smile as she relaxes and her shoulder digs into the door frame.

While she enjoys her alone time as much, if not much more, than the next person, it's a nice change from slicing up training dummies and listening to the wind batter the snow coated windows.

"What's with the hats?" And maybe she's just a bit uneasy about the whole thing, the way somebody is when they think they might be the target of the next fun and war-starting prank, but she lets the question drawl, keeping it warm and simple even as the others fidget, Lukas already starting to rub the side of his arm as his smile gets wider to compensate.

Well, they're breaking awful easy. Whatever's going on, it must not be about her, then.

Olivia shrugs, overly nonchalant in a way that's perfectly suspicious with a tone that couldn't be more innocent or more forced.

"We all thought it would be good for holiday spirit."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Holiday spirit."

They share a glance before nodding and _oh_.

That shouldn't click as quickly or as well as it does, but Petra knows these people, knows specifically the person that's being the problem here, and she's just a second too late to keep her shoulders from visibly relaxing as she straightens up.

"Yup."

Important Point One: Nobody gets into the holiday spirit as well or as quickly as Jesse.

Important Point Two: Jesse's been working herself into the ground trying to keep up with everything for everyone, from setting up decorations all over the city and the Order Hall to going over the surplus of paperwork that even poor Radar hasn't been able to keep up with.

(Important But Extremely Frustrating Point Three: Radar would do the extra paperwork, but Jesse's insisted on doing almost all of it herself, and the only people more worried than her easily anxious intern are her best friends.

They might be workaholics too, but even they know their limits, and their hypocritical leader's always quick to try and get them to relax.

It's time for some fair play, which means time for some turnabout.)

Most Important Point: Jesse won’t be able to defend working herself to death if it puts holiday shenanigans and general feelings of good will at risk.

They're all tired of watching the circles under her eyes get darker and bigger, of seeing her posture get more and more slumped and her smiles more and more forced. At this point, it may be something of a miracle Ivor hasn't simply forced her to sleep through some potion or threat thereof. Jesse takes her holidays seriously though, and the same can be said with her and festivities, but they all tend to view her health and well-being as just a little more important than a little extra perfect flair for the fireworks or a display.

It's hard not to smile wider as Lukas holds out another red and white hat to Petra, smile less uneasy and more invitingly devious in a way she's entirely behind.

Jesse can be hypocritical, but she'll also probably realize they'll make her take a break by force if she won't play along.

And they will, in a way she'll probably fight but lose against.

It's what friends do.

Improving fighter and far too sneaky for her own good or not, there's no way Jesse, wearing herself down to nothing, can beat all four of them.

"Alright, I'm in." Petra accepts the offered hat, setting it on her head at an angle to make sure the drooping bit of red and white stays to the side of her face. "You guys have one ready for Jesse, right?"

Olivia's scoff is light, sounding more like a small chuckle than any kind of huff even as she crosses her arms and tilts her head back just enough to briefly look down at Petra and complete the enjoyably haughty look. This is definitely going to be good.

"Of course we do."

Petra absently adjusts her hat, tipping one of the sides enough for it to cover the top of her ear as she chuckles back.

"Any worries about her saying no?"

She's pretty sure that's rope sticking out of the top of Olivia's satchel, which is exactly her type of backup plan and conveniently ignored by all of them as Axel grins and shakes his head.

"Nah. It's not like Jesse to turn any of this stuff down."

Petra returns the grin with a toothy one of her own, setting her shoulders and stepping closer to them as her door shuts with a quiet click behind her.

"Sounds good."

This is the kind of winter mission she'll be more than happy to take on and win at. Jesse wants to be stubborn?

Great. They can match her bit for bit at it, any time any place.


	24. Free Day (Traditions) (Ivor/Harper)

There's a considerable amount to be said, for how the darkest of nights and shortest of days leads to some of the happiest and most giving of moments.

People can be amazing that way.

And it's not singular to one or a handful of worlds; most have some sort of celebration or customs meant to keep up cheer and happiness even when the world itself gets harsh.

And not to brag or come across as cocky, but mesas are often as harsh and cruel as deserts, making the festivities all the more needed.

Snow wasn't impossible, but even in the thick of rapidly dropping temperatures and shrinking daylight, it tended to be scarce in Crown Mesa. It's hard to say how or if PAMA's destruction and restructuring of the mesa has affected snowfall at all, given the years of total lack of precipitation or moisture, but before it had all gotten so out of hand, given the small town they had been, their traditions had less to do with snow and ice and more to do with people.

Being close was important, even if traditions ranged from the more reckless daring each other to see who could spend the longest in the oldest of abandoned mine shafts to reaching out to a person to try and become friends, or more if they were already friends.

She can still remember the yearly fishing competition they had, down at the river that surrounded most of the plateau, where life was always the most abundant, even in winter. For all the years Harper lived there, as cold as it got, the water never iced over, the riverbed teeming with all sorts of life and bits of greenery doing as well as they could in such thick, clay soil.

Back when the mesa had rivers, that is. Last she heard, they were working on replenishing it, and the returning rains likely helped. By this point, it's likely flourishing again, water moving at a steady pace as it tugs at the more stubborn and resilient of lily pads and swaths of reeds. The help they've gained from other worlds has been invaluable, but she's not sure if reintroducing the schools of fish to the waters have become enough of a priority yet.

Harper will likely never learn. The people of Crown Mesa, her people, had accepted her help as much as they needed to and, when they deemed it enough, gave her good motivation to quickly leave and never return.

(It's not much of an honor, thinking about how the first prison cell rebuilt was meant and used for her.

She doesn't want to think about what it would have been like, or where she would be, without the Order's unexpected but appreciated rescue party.)

She's allowed back, though, technically.

Once. Really, the only downside to the terms is that she also won't come back, on account of being dead if she steps foot in Crown Mesa again.

It's not her own doubt telling her that her chances of getting a warm welcome that doesn't involve fire are slim; she was told as much by people who used to be her friends, told as much in letters and negotiations after she'd ended up living in Jesse's world.

She's getting better at accepting that.

And this isn't a bad world at all, and as odd as the people may get, they're not half bad either. Their traditions are nice, their inclusion of her in them even more so.

The trees and presents, caroling and mistletoe, snowball fights and sparkling lights, it's all wonderful. It's home too, even if it may not be what she's used to yet. She'll get better with time, and she's planning on sticking around and seeing at least a few more celebrations like this.

Harper knows in time the ache will slow down, buried beneath happier and better memories not tinged by bittersweet nostalgia or clinging homesickness, and the traditions she's seen and experienced here are beautiful and welcoming.

(Even ugly, slightly lopsided sweaters that have the sole purpose of being worn once a year.

Jesse's a person of many, if mostly odd, talents.)

It's not a new feeling, the stinging ache in her chest..

She had to get used to Crown Mesa and all its people too, and their traditions and holiday habits, when she ran from Hadrian and the others, from her original home.

It's just a part of the cycle.

Harper sighs as she rubs at her eyes, forced to look up from the variety of half-dismantled, half-repaired trinkets on her workbench by how blurry her vision's getting.

Notch, she hopes this is the last time she has to do this.

She's tired of saying goodbye, of losing or betraying or being betrayed by people dear to her.

Her fingers twirl a glass spire, multicolored and finely cut, and she's halfway through getting her mind of things by debating which trinket it looks best a part of when there's a cold nose on her neck.

She may have to keep herself from yelping, but it doesn't make the smile she has any less warm.

"You feel freezing." And she doesn't bother to stop or cut off the quiet chuckle that comes with the observation, turning to face Ivor as he pulls away, similarly grinning.

Harper doesn't have to guess where he's been, no doubt causing some kind of mayhem with Jesse and the others as they made and simultaneously destroyed snow forts, but it's already obvious that she didn't quite guess everything he's been up to, judging on the brightly wrapped object in his hands.

"For you."

She raises an eyebrow, but makes no objection as she finds what feels to be a small box pressed in her hands, fingers tugging at the wrapping.

It's another odd little tradition she already knows she loves.

But when she gets to the box, opening it to find an assortment or chocolates and a carefully tucked away bottle of healing potion, there's something that takes her by even more surprised.

Ivor's grin getting wider is all the encouragement she needs to read the small, folded note.

It's sweet and utterly him, his voice bleeding through each and every curved and looped word, but it's more than just wishing her happy or merry holidays.

There's a line that gets to her in particular that seems more familiar, still his words but mixed with hers. It's a line about being something more, and she knows before she's done that it's a wonderful reminder of what a fantastically sappy lover she has.

They've already discussed this, the two of them, of course, where their relationship lies and their transition from friends to partners in a variety of senses, but she recognizes it for what it is and deeply appreciates it anyway. It's just like Ivor to put his own little spin on these sorts of things.

Harper's lack of a response, however, evidently gets to Ivor sooner than she thought it would.

"That was what you told me to do, wasn't it?"

His voice is gentle and quiet, with just enough warmth and snark to betray how concerned he is about quality. So, Harper does what she should and what she wants and chuckles again as she rolls her eyes, smile staying warm and wide.

"I didn't tell you to do anything."

He huffs, a small little sound she's come to cherish as much as anything and everything else he does, as he crosses his arms.

"Alright, well, was it what you wanted?"

"Let me think..." She kisses him on the cheek, leaning back in her chair as she gently sets the box down. "I'd say so."

It's so much more.


	25. Christmas With Friends

Jesse's been through a lot, over time, as much as her world and several others.

There's no denying that and very little use in ever trying, and it's unfortunately the price of being a hero to so many for so much.

There are absolutely days when she wishes for nothing more than for things to go back to how they once were, back when everything was simple and there weren't scars to heal and wounds to fix.

With all the struggles and hardships though, she also won't deny that having more people over for the holidays is a definite bonus.

Because with every fight and every problem, she and the others met new people and made easily as many friends as they have enemies. They've gone up against monsters beyond comprehension, elements and parts of nature people were likely never meant to see or try to survive, like a sadistic world made of lava and fire, and people with otherworldly abilities and straight-up deities.

And each and every one they survived.

Having managed to help and save one of the deities that was giving them the most trouble, managing to be his friend, is admittedly a point of pride for Jesse. Everyone should get a second chance, but it's not like her affection is halfhearted or for show. She enjoys her friends, each and every one, and she goes through everything she normally does and everything she prays she'll never have to again for them.

After the first time, Jesse refuses to lose anyone else. She may have so many friends, but that doesn't mean any are replaceable or would hurt any less to lose.

And because they're cherished, Jesse thinks she might be in paradise with the sheer fun they've all been having today. They all could, in some way, use a break, from Petra returning home at least for a temporary holiday break after a few months adventuring and a few scanter letters than anyone would like to Jack and Nurm having closed up shop to spend the day with them to even Romeo and Xara staying with the Order for a week to enjoy a much needed break from all the work they've been doing in their world and the Order's world.

(Xara's gotten better, slowly but surely, at enjoying things, and even if she's undoubtedly dry and maybe just a little snippy sometimes, it's nice to see her smiling and happy.)

Jesse isn't as good an influence as she would hope, having apparently rubbed off Radar in the worst overworking of ways, but even he's been convinced to enjoy a few days to relax, and to top it off with Lukas, who's been living at the Order Hall again, and Axel and Olivia coming to visit, well... she can't really complain.

Even and especially if it means there are hours spent doing nothing but celebrating, from as soon as golden sunlight creeps over the horizon and makes the snow glitter and glisten to long after noon when everyone has snow in places they never expected and with the good kind of sore and aching muscles as they trudge back inside for hot chocolate and cookies.

After the ravenous munching of their sweets and enjoyed drinks, however, everyone's left feeling pretty cozy as conversation and lighthearted ribbing dies down

What they all could use, everyone seems to decide at once in the exhausted and silent way only happy but drained friends can, that they need to rest before they throw themselves into whatever else they end up doing or whoever else they end up welcoming tonight.

And they all pile onto the large and miraculously not overtaxed couch in the living room, watching the fire as the last of the hot chocolate and tea is drunk. It's nice from the start, but after a few minutes of occasional nudging and shifting and moving, everyone's found their warm, cuddly place to rest or doze or sleep and it's even nicer somehow.

So it figures, it really does just figure, that once everyone's done settling down and they're all nice and happy, a knocking comes from down the hall, easily louder than the soft cracks and pops of the firewood and unmistakably from the entrance.

So much for a little rest before more guests show up.

Doing a quick mental headcount, both of people who are already here and those who they know won't be coming by today (like Em and Nell, who are spending today together back in Nell's world, or Slab, who's busy running a limited celebratory edition of the improved and updated Games, or Stacy and Stampy, who, last Jesse heard, were both busy celebrating their latest ever high in sales with their friends, and Stella was already here for a few days and won't be back until tomorrow at the earliest in order to make sure Champion City's celebrations will go well), Jesse realizes what she probably should have earlier and probably tried but failed to keep in mind, which is that it's definitely Ivor, Harper, and whatever other members of the old Order that could make it.

(On one hand, Axel's already here, to her right and between Lukas and Petra, as well as being used as a pillow by both, but it's not like Magnus couldn't just up and leave. The general chaos of Boom Town doesn't really require more than a few conveniently placed and scattered fireworks to make festively explosive.)

There's a pause and then another knock, followed by some rattling of the handle that's hardly light but certainly loud, likely just for the purpose of reminding them of what they already know: the door's locked, and heavily.

A day off from the rest of the world, excepting serious matters, means the press wouldn't be able to get past the gate while people like Ivor would, but the door itself managed to get locked somewhere between the snowball fight and the sled races and it just figures that no one managed to unlock it in all the weary time they've had since then.

This pause doesn't last long, each of them glancing at each other, before Petra grumbles as she sinks more into Axel and the couch corner, wiry smile tugging at her lips.

"Somebody's going to have to get up to get the door."

Despite her own best efforts and her own disgruntlement, Jesse can't quite stifle her giggles at the resulting groans and simultaneous shifting.


End file.
